Resistance
by mari4815
Summary: Shannon hated the way she couldn't resist him, and she couldn't face the fact that she loved him. Shannoncentric, seriously shipping Shoone, mostly preisland. COMPLETE.
1. It's Clearer in the Dark

_11/9/05 - I'm sort of doing a cleanup of the story. I'm not changing much, just spelling and grammatical errors. I'm not finished, I just thought it would be a good idea. Sorry if the people on the alert list get a bunch of annoying emails when I really haven't changed anything._

**Chapter 1 - It's Clearer In the Dark **

Shannon hated his stupid, self- deprecating smile. She hated his attitude, how it was hostile and passive at the same time. She hated the way he walked. And she hated the way she couldn't resist him.

It had begun long before Sydney, long before high school was over and before they grew up. She didn't remember when – somewhere around the time she was fourteen, but it had started like a game. A "goodnight game" occurring in there last few minutes of consciousness each night.

"I dare you to kiss me," she would tell him.

"But Shannon – " he would always object, just a little, but his words meant nothing. Their lips would touch softly and the kiss would last mere seconds – chaste, only bordering on inappropriate, but there wasn't anything _quite_ wrong with it yet. The way she held his hand, played with his fingers, could be considered as just affectionate sibling behavior.

But as they got older, the game intensified. He would lie in his bed some nights, waiting for her to climb in next to him, to brush against his body and breathe baby's breath into his ear, sucking on his neck softly, becoming increasingly friendly with the space where ear tapered into neck. Other nights, she would listen against the wall, anticipating the sound of his feet creeping down the hallway, waiting for him to give her a back massage. She would disguise the shivers she got when she felt his breathe down her neck, suppress her moans when his fingers kneaded her shoulders just right, sorting out the kinks in her smooth skin.

Then it turned into urgent kissing – more tongues and less clothes. Their goodnight sessions would only last minutes, because they feared that his mom or her dad would hear. As their high school years drew to a close, their evening rendezvous became more aggressive. Climbing onto Shannon, Boone would place long, greedy, openmouthed kisses, his fingers would slowly move from clutched with Shannon's delicate hands to the hem of her shirt. Taking a hint, she would tease him, tantalizingly unbuttoning it one or two buttons at a time. She loved watching him try to contain himself, how stressed out he got – all hot and bothered. Eventually, in those humid, melting days before Boone graduated, she would skitter frantically to his room, pounce on him, rip off her shirt as he did his own, grab his hands and force them up her bra, taking her own hands and groping at his crotch wildly in the dark, beads of sweat rolling down their now bare chests.

Some days, many days, she told herself she wouldn't go, and would turn and close her eyes decisively – only to find her feet pitter-pattering down the hallway seconds later. He wasn't a drug, but he sure as hell was addictive.

_But he is the one who is in love with me_, she would reason with herself defiantly. She was merely _attracted_ to him – she wanted to kiss him and touch him (_And fuck him,_ A pesky voice in her head added). But. She didn't adore him or idolize him that he did her. He annoyed her; almost every thing he said and did made her practically cringe with embarrassment. No, this was most certainly NOT love. It wasn't like she thought of him constantly. Only minutes before sleep claimed her, when he was feeling her up, when she was caressing him neck. It was wrong, but she didn't give a damn, she could stop whenever she wanted. And they _were_ just messing around.

Through her father's death, through all of her boyfriends, changing friendships and interests, her nights with Boone remained relatively constant. But they were growing anxious, and there came a time when five minutes together wasn't enough. Whenever Sabrina was away, which was often, they would make out on the couch, in the bathroom, in the hot tub, on the counter – anywhere they could, really, just to prove they could. They toyed with the idea of having sex, but when Sabrina was back, unused condoms would lie in the trash can, bundled in wads of toilet paper, so they would go unnoticed.

There were phases, however, when they didn't do anything together. For a while when Boone was dating Shannon's best friend Anna, he refused to do anything with Shannon. In fact, he barely even spoke to her at all. During this time was when Shannon's reputation as a slut was secured. She quickly lost her virginity to a drunken jock, slept with some other guys – backfiring because she knew (and hated) the fact that Anna and Boone were totally doing it, too. But, while she had difficulty admitting it, she really did miss him. She wanted him back, bad. So she always wore her skimpiest clothes around the two of them. Ass-skimming skirts and push-up bras became staples in her wardrobe. She wanted Anna to discover his secret lust for her. And it worked.

She dated tons of guys, partially to make Boone jealous, but also to find someone, anyone, would play the part that Boone played in her life. This was not quite as successful, but it did result in more attention from him.

She didn't like him, yet she _craved_ him. She longed to stare into his eyes, to feel his soft but slightly chapped lips against hers; she wanted to smell his scent and his sex. But she knew that once she had him, she wouldn't know WHAT to do. Would she even want him anymore? She had watched his heart break on her account numerous times, watch him kiss the ground she walked on for years. Some part of her felt guilt, but it was swallowed by the larger part that wanted to prove his inferiority. But all these feelings were _drowned_ by the part of her that wanted _him_.


	2. So this is the New Year

******Chapter 2 - So This is the New Year**

December 31st, 2000 -

Shannon Rutherford, age 17, ambled into a dimly lit hallway and dialed his number. "Hi, Boone," she said loudly other the sound of rap music and drunk college boys behind her.

"Where are you? It's kind of loud."

"I'm at a party, dumbass." She answered back.

"And you want me to come pick you up?" He said expectantly.

"Well yeah, I don't think I should drive, so…"

"Fine. Where is the party?"

He arrived about ten minutes later, and Shannon hopped into his car appreciatively. The numbers on the dashboard clock blurred and jumped, irritating her. She could hardly make out the letters. It was early still… ten? Or was that an eleven?

"It's ten-fifteen," He supplied after a few minutes.

"Thanks," she spat. Then she sniffled.

"Hey," he said kindly, "What's up?"

"Nothing," she said unconvincingly.

"Where's Bobby? Was he too drunk to drive?" He asked. Shannon sniffed again.

"Bobby," she began, "Is an asshole." Boone pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition, waiting for her to elaborate. There were no other cars in the driveway – Sabrina was gone, as usual, on vacation. "We got to the party, and he was being stupid and annoying, so he gave me a shot of – of vodka," she stumbled over her words. "And I drank it, and it tasted like pee, but what else is new?" She paused. "Um, we had a few more, and he was getting really drunk, and he asked if I wanted to go upstairs, b- but, I said 'No!' Well actually, I said, 'Not right now, maybe later' because I wanted to be nice. So I was talking to people, and I saw someone and I thought it was you, so I went up to say hi, but it wasn't you and he laughed and it was embarrassing." When Shannon was drunk, she rambled like a little kid a lot. Boone thought it was adorable, even though he knew she shouldn't be getting drunk as often as she did.

"I'm sorry. What happened next?" He said, patting her knee.

"I went to go find Bobby, and I checked the bathroom and there was this really awful whore-type girl with gigantic boobs. She had on white plastic sunglasses, which is really, really tacky – and she was only wearing a bra with a sweater thing tied over like she was Britney Spears or something… don't get that look on your face, Boone!" She said, hurt.

"Sorry, sorry. So what happened?"

"There was this guy who looked like Bobby…" she started full-out sobbing. " You wanna know… why?"

"Because he –"

"Because he WAS Bobby!" She screamed, and broke into dramatic sobs, burying her head into his shoulder. "He told me he loved me, like, yesterday! And then he just, you know, looked at me, no apologies, just like, 'Oh, your boobs aren't big enough for me!' He didn't say sorry or anything!"

"Shannon, that's horrible. He doesn't deserve you."

"Oh my god! That's why! He was cheating on me because I'm only a 34 and B! Oh my god!" She buried her face deeper into his shoulder. "I'm totally flat! She was like, triple thousandy double D or something! I have horrible boobs! Is that why?"

"Shannon," he said patiently, "Your boobs are fine."

"Just fine? Because she was like – "

"They're great. They're perfect." He deadpanned.

"Better than Anna's?"

"Shannon…"

"Answer me!"

"I don't know! Yes, they're better!"

"But the huge-boobed girl –"

"You know, they were probably fake, anyway." He pointed out.

"Really?" said Shannon, accusingly, pulling away. "How do you know that? Are you sleeping with the huge-boobed girl? Are you?"

"What the hell, Shan, I've never even met her! Unlike you, I don't sleep with everything that moves! I've never even met her!"

"What about Anna? What about me? I'll tell her you're cheating on her with that girl that Bobby is cheating on me with."

"Anna? Anna dumped me tonight. Again."

"Oh." Said Shannon. "Well, she was cheating on you too, the little slut."

"What?"

"I've known since like, forever."

"Why didn't you tell me? I mean –"

"She's my best friend!" Said Shannon.

"But you just called her a – "

"Just because she's my best friend doesn't mean she's not a slut."

"Jesus, Shannon! Tell me next time you know something like that!"

"I…" A lone tear trickled down her cheek.

"Oh… don't cry… it's fine." He apologized quickly.

"Can we go inside now?" She asked.

"Yeah."

Minutes later, after Shannon had washed her face and changed into a tank top a pajama shorts, she turned on the television to the channel that was doing New Year's Coverage. Boone sat down next to her, and she put her head in his lap and almost instantly fell asleep. The last thing she heard was, "In Times Square, residents and visitors…" She woke up at eleven PM. She looked up and noticed that Boone was no longer sitting next to her. Standing up, she walked into the kitchen, where he was opening a bottle of champagne.

"Oooooh! Is God's Friggin' Gift to Humanity drinking underage? I don't believe it!" She teased.

"Yes. He is. Do you want some?"

"Yeah." She poured some champagne into a glass and gulped it down. He did the same, but slightly more cautiously. "That was for Anna." He said. She started pouring some more into each glass.

"Shannon, you're already sort of dr –" He started, but she cut him off.

"For that asshole, Bobby." He hesitated, but then drank it quickly. He took the bottle and glasses to the coffee table and they sat on the couch. He poured more. "To the…"

"To the huge boobed-girl rotting in hell!" Soon, the bottle was empty, and both its drinkers were appropriately intoxicated. Boone climbed on top of Shannon.

"God, you're pretty." He slurred. She giggled. "God thinks you're pretty too, Boone."

"No, but you're like, really, really pretty!"

"I know that!"

"Baby, I – I want you really bad!" he guffawed.

"Yeah, I know that, too." They started kissing, messy; wet kisses on each other's lips, ears, and necks. She ran her fingers through his hair… they giggled and made out for a few more minutes. Then, as the alcohol started to wear off, he got off of her and started watching the New Year's TV. "New Orleans, the home of Mardi Gras, shows us that they can party on New Year's, too, especially at one elite nightclub…"

Twenty minutes before midnight, she opened another bottle and brought it to the living room where he was watching TV. "You forgot glasses." He said, but Shannon laughed and answered, "Screw the glasses! I don't know about you, but I am pissed off! Being dumped sucks, yeah?" He grabbed the bottle from her ("Aren't we feisty?") and gulped down a few sips, passing it to Shannon. Turns out he was pissed off, too.

* * *

"In Dallas, folks ring in the New Year at Porker's 24-Hour-Bar!" The newscaster exclaimed as Shannon slurped down the remained of her champagne, straddled on top of Boone, who was pressing his fingers up her thighs, teasing the seams of her underwear…

"How did you celebrate New Year this year?" said the newscaster to a frumpy looking, older couple. Shannon's hands were everywhere, as were her lips. If he had been sober he would have been able to, but in his drunkenness, he couldn't keep track of where she touched him, how, and when.

"In Omaha, a group of environmentalists ring in 2001 under the stars, like one Nebraska native, Gloria Tampa –" Shannon's lips moistened his neck, shoulders, stomach, and her hands under the hem of his shirt, pressing into his pants zipper.

"… Hinders the sight of the stars, fireworks are a cause of annoyance to Miss Tampa –" Shannon gasped, giggling uncontrollably while he kissed her lips, his tongue getting way too involved. She just coaxed him on, forcing all her weight on his crotch. She felt him stiff against her. He groaned loudly. In turn, they sucked at each other's lips, tongues intertwined urgently. He grabbed the bottle, pausing to take a sip from it.

"Shannon, you got all the champagne baby," he slurred. She smiled, and once again their lips met.

"Take me…. Mmmmm…. Upstairs… let's go to bed…" she hissed.

He stood her up, with difficulty, and they continued kissing, stumbling up the stairs. At the first landing, he pulled away, gasping for breath between kissing. Jumping into his arms, she made it increasingly difficult for him to get up the stairs, and eventually they fell down outside his door. In her drunkenness, she told him matter-of-factly that she was having an orgasm, although she generally kept these things to herself.

Somehow, they finally made it to his bed, where Boone started rambling some thing about the differences between making love ("After you walk down the threshold after getting married"), sleeping together ("Only polite people say that"), doing someone ("Sounds like 'shit or get off the pot', you know?), and fucking ("Really dirty but also really, really hot that a volcano or something, yanno?") He said that they were about to fuck. As he got closer to her, she made another announcement about her sexual state. ("If you don't do me right now, I'm going to die!" She slurred). He was inside her body for a few luxurious, blissful moments, and then she promptly passed out.

* * *

Dawn on January 1st, 2001, was a subdued affair at the Carlyle mansion. Shannon sat by the windowsill in Boone's room, wrapped in a blue cashmere blanket. Her eyes were bleary and her memories of the previous night were tainted. Throbbing pains made her head ache like hell. Boone was lying in his bed, his closed eyes peaceful but his expression was troubled. How the hell had she let this happen? Before, they had gotten pretty far, but their relationship was in a whole new level of shit now that they had had sex. Shannon sat, resenting it all, and reviewing last night's occurrences. Boone stirred, and the moment his eyes fluttered open, and she saw his bright blue eyes gazing at her, she forgot what sarcastic comment she was planning to say, and instead said, "Wanna do it again?"


	3. Elevator Blowup

******Chapter 3 - Elevator Blowup**

There were some things she hated about their affair. She hated the awkwardness between them the next day and at other family events. She hated the condescending voice he used on the phone when he told her he was busy and wouldn't let her sleepover. But there were some things she loved. She loved how forbidden it was, the quiet feeling of victory she got lying to his mother and sneaking to his apartment. She loved the way that he was amazing in bed, but didn't know it. She loved the way he whispered in her ear, unintelligible half-sentences that she could only hear bits of. (He was always complimenting her! He'd whisper things like, something-something-something "…You're so beautiful…" something- something, "I can barely stand it…" something-something.)

Boone was in school for most of the duration of it, so Shannon would tell her step-mother, if she was home, that she was sleeping over at a friends how, but we all know what she really went to do.

Upon arriving at his house, Boone's dog, Jake (and Shannon's professed love of her life) would practically knock her over in his excitement. After she finished greeting Jake, she would stand up and give Boone a platonic hug, but pretty soon he was laying kisses on her lips, and she would push him against the wall, opening her mouth and coaxing his open. After a few minutes of hardcore making out, she would gasp, "Your…room… now!" Wholeheartedly obliging, they would fall onto his bed, piling their clothes on the ottoman, and they would totally screw. At least twice. When they woke up, it would be dinnertime, and usually at least one childish fit would ensue.

"I want Thai food!" She would whine.

"No, we had that two nights ago, can't we just make something we already have?"

"No!"

"Um, why?"

"Because what the hell do you have to eat here?"

"I have chicken."

"Fine. We're never fucking again."

About three minutes later, the Thai food would be on the way. They would eat, and Boone would always try to make her eat more, which would cause another quarrel.

"Is that all you're going to eat, Shan?"

"Yes."

"Like, two bites?"

"Leave me alone."

"Shannon –"

"Leave me. Alone!"

"How about I leave you alone when you're being hospitalized for starving yourself?"

"Jesus, Christ! I'm not hungry anymore, so just leave me the fuck alone!"

"What the hell is your problem? I'm trying to help."

"Well, newsflash, dumbass, you're not."

"But –"

"Shut the fuck up, Boone!"

"Why don't you shut the fuck up?" He retorted.

"Because I didn't say anything, stupid!"

"I'm the stupid one? Hmmmm, who's failing all their classes again?"

"I am NOT failing all my classes!"

"Oh sorry, half."

"You know what? First of all, my lowest grade is a C-. Second, I'm leaving."

"No! Don't leave, please!"

"Cue 'baby, I'm sorry' mode, right?" She asked bitterly.

"I am sorry."

"Yeah. Sure, you're sorry now that you know we're not going to do it again tonight! You are so fucking predictable!" Suddenly the look on his face changed.

"You are so hot when you're screaming." So, much to Jake's confusion, they started making out – again.

* * *

It was different when Boone was on school break and at home. This made it easier to get to each other, but more difficult to keep their secret. When Shannon took a shower, Boone would quietly knock on the door, claiming, "I have to get my hairbrush," and then he would come in, lower his voice and say, "Can I join you?"

Shannon would answer flirtatiously, "You'd better." So, laughing at the forbiddingness of it all, he would step over the brim of the bathtub, say, "Hey beautiful" and look at her for a second.

"You checking me out?" She asked in mock-worry.

"No." He deadpanned. "The most gorgeous girl in the world is standing in front of me, naked, and, for God's sake, dripping wet, and I'm not checking her out."

"You're a pervert."

"I think you enjoy my pervdom, Shannon." She giggled and started to kiss him under the faucet. He grabbed onto her hips, hugging the curves of her body, and kiss her neck, his tongue snaking out from between his lips as he bit her ear softly. She moaned, and he cupped her mouth to compress the sound so that his mom wouldn't hear.

One day, Shannon was heading over to Boone's apartment, and as the bellman opened the door for her, he noted in a rather strange tone, "You've been here a lot lately." As she opened her mouth to respond, a sickening feeling pervaded her stomach. Oh… fuck, she thought. He could she have been so ridiculously dumb? The bellman knew they were siblings (well, sort of siblings), Sabrina had dragged Shannon along when they had bought the place.

Fuck!

He had also seen her leave his house in yesterday's clothes early in the morning, almost everyday. What could this bellman think of her? She looked at him, and he looked back, as if challenging her. He was short, fat, and probably gay (if her gaydar proved correct). She was gorgeous, tall, thin, and as hetero as they come… oh, and he thought she was incestual.

"I… I…" she stammered.

"Are you going to go up or not?" he asked coldly.

"Yes." She answered defiantly, walking towards the elevator, only to find Boone walking out of it. She pushed him back into it, punched in the highest level, and the moment it closed, Shannon shrieked, "Holy FUCK! We are so stupid! The guy, he knows! About us, we –"

"Shan," he said, touching her arm. "I can't understand what you're – "

She snatched her arm away. "I – you – we –" she sputtered. "The bellman… he knows, okay? About us! And he's going to tell all his stupid little gay friends, and it's going to get back to people, and everyone is going to know –" she exhaled in frustration, "We're fucking. Except not anymore, obviously."

"Jesus Christ! How did he –" Then the elevator stopped. Boone typed in the first floor.

"Hmmm, let's see," she said sardonically. "I come at night, and sneak out, with my hair all screwed up at six in the morning, and that's how it happens in all the movies, so maybe that's how."

"This is – this is bad!"

"No, duh."

"How could you have not thought of this, Shannon?" He asked, visibly annoyed.

"Me? Me? This is my fault! You didn't notice it either, you fucking idiot!"

"Don't talk to me like that, you bitch!" He shouted.

"You promised you'd never call me a –"

"Yeah, well, it's about time I started calling you what you are! You know, some other names might fit into that category, like wh –"

She screamed as loud as she could. "I hate you, I fucking hate you!" Tears ran down her cheeks. "Aren't you going to apologize?"

"No."

"I don't know what to –"

"Does it matter for you? I mean you're – "

"A whore? A slut? It doesn't matter what people think? Like it matters for you – you're a wannabe and everybody knows it! At least I have a reputation, ass!"

"You don't… You don't know shit about me! YOU DON'T FUCKING KNOW ME!" Just then, the door of the elevator slid open peacefully. She ran out of it before he could stop her, leaving him behind. She opened her purse quickly and took out a 100 dollar bill. She'd seen this done in movies, and she didn't know what else to do.

Approaching the bellman, she said, "Don't you dare –" The bellman looked taken aback, "Tell anyone." She slipped the bill into his hands, and rushed out of the lobby, thinking, hoping she had left their whole mess of a relationship behind. She didn't quite realize that is was just going to get messier.

_(Photobooth by Death Cab for Cutie)_


	4. Bitch versus Bitch

**Chapter 4 – Bitch Versus Bitch **

Shannon remembered the last social event she had been to. It had been a Valentine's Day Eve Celebration, otherwise known as another random excuse for Sabrina to flaunt her connections.

After smiling charmingly and shaking hands with carious balding, wealthy stockbrokers, she had sat down, delicately nibbling on a friggin' heart-shaped watercress sandwich. A round-faced, overweight man had sat next to her, asking her about college choices. "Harvard or Yale?" How about friggin' cosmetology school? "What's your favorite subject?" Whatever's seventh period on Friday. Then, Boone had sat on the other side of her.

"Nice to meet you," he had told Fatso. Idiot suck-up. Fatso had gone on to explain that he was a teacher, but wanted to be a screenwriter. Obviously, Sabrina wasn't doing to well with social connections lately, was she?

"So what are you doing here?" Shannon interrupted his rant about The Count of Monte Cristo, which he had read 15 times with his hostile pre-pubescent eighth graders. Apparently, Shannon's comment was not appropriate: Boone kicked her under the table and the man promptly excused himself. Just to bug Boone, Shannon had responded to his kick by wrapping her foot around his and digging her toes into his calf.

"Stop," he said under his breath. She didn't, and instead ran her foot a little higher up the side of his pant leg. "Stop," he repeated, but she didn't until Sabrina walked by, looking a little suspicious. Eventually, they both went their separate ways – Boone went to talk to the son of one of the stockbrokers, and Shannon started to make small talk with the trophy wife of a psychiatrist. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Boone go up the staircase. Naturally, Shannon followed him. Upstairs, he was waiting outside of the occupied bathroom. She snuck up behind him and kneaded his shoulders, grasping his skin in her fingers and letting go, and then sucked at his neck.

"God, Shan…" he groaned. She wrapped her arms around his neck from behind him and rested her lips on his ear and murmured,

"You wanna get out of here?" Kissed his ear softly.

"How did you know I'd be up here?" he muttered.

"Followed you. I was watching you," she whispered, and once again moved her lips against his ear. She felt goose bumps appearing on his neck.

"Won't they notice we're gone?" He asked as he took her hands in his.

"She cares more about the ratio of tuna to celery in the salad than she cares about us."

"But she'll be really pissed off if she finds out we ditched her party," he breathed in her ear.

"It's not a party, it's a non-denominational celebration, Boone." He laughed and leaned down to her.

"I want to get out of here, but – "

"I'll make a compromise: let's fuck in the bathroom." He looked taken aback, but rather pleased at the same time.

"But there's someone in there."

"Then how about in the other bathroom?"

"My mom locked the doors. She only wants people using one."

"That's stupid."

"Yeah, I know."

"We'll wait for the person to get out. Who's in there?"

"The Count of Monte Cristo guy."

"Have you ever noticed how long it takes for fat people to pee?"

"Shhhhh, he might hear you."

"I don't give a fuck."

"You're probably the rudest person I've ever met, you know that?"

"You love it."

"Yeah. Basically." She took her arms off of him as Fatso left the bathroom.

"Hi, Mr. Goldwin!" She said sweetly, watching him go down the stairs. Boone raised his eyebrows, rolling his eyes at her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He fell into his arms and kissed him tenderly repeatedly.

"Shan," he interrupted, "We have to be quick, okay?"

"Mmmmm," she answered between kisses. "No time to take…mmm… our clothes… Mmmmm… just…God," she said.

"Sure. Whatever you say." She started to unzip his pants. "You look really hot today," Boone said.

"Tell me something I don't know, Boone," she responded as he leaned back to pull his pants down. She leaned into him, hard.

"Jesus Christ, Shannon," he sighed. She lifted her dress as he pushed her against the wall, deepening to kiss. Slowly, he began to encourage her underpants down, fingers skimming over her hipbones.

"Second drawer," she said, "Do it in the shower." As he stepped behind the curtain to deal with the condom, Shannon dug her fingernails into her thigh, whining at him to hurry up. When he came out of the shower, she quickly pressed her lips against his again.

"Take off your boxers." She demanded. "Now." When she came, she prayed to God that the walls of this bathroom were sound proof.

* * *

This family gathering was different. Only a few people were there, silently sipping their drinks of choice. Shannon sat on the couch, staring at the rug.

"You okay?" asked Boone, patting her knee. She flinched.

"Please don't touch me."

"I'm sorry. But are you okay?"

"What the hell do you think?"

"Um. Not okay?"

"Bingo."

"Well, if there's something I can do…" Boone trailed off.

"I'll let you know." He started walking away.

"Wait! Can you, um, stay with me?"

"Sure." He sat down.

"It's just that – I – I never really felt like his daughter. We never talked or anything. He didn't like to talk to me because I reminded him of… of her, but I never really made like… an effort." She paused. "And now I'll never be able to. I won't get to visit him in an old people place… my kids won't ever meet him… not that I would have wanted them to. But now I'll never be able to – "She sniffled. "I don't want to be here. I just want to go to sleep… why does she have to friggin' entertain? Dad's never even met great-aunt whatever her name is!"

"She has to make everything a party." He said quietly.

"It's insane!"

"Her husband just died, and… she's… she's making truffles." Said Boone.

"Are you upset, Boone?"

"I'm upset because you're upset." They sat in silence for a moment. "Um, Shannon? I'm really sorry I called you a bitch yesterday."

"Oh God. I had forgotten." She sniffled. "Thanks a lot for reminding me." She stood up and headed to the kitchen.

"Oh, Shannon!" said Sabrina. "Thank God you're here! Hey, I was thinking we could go have a spa day, you know, your nails look a little ragged, and under the current situation, I thought we could have a relaxing – "

"What the fuck is your problem, Sabrina? I don't need a fucking facial because my dad just DIED! Your husband! Don't you even care?"

"Shannon- there's people here!"

"Like I give a fuck! What the hell!" she cried. "It's true! Don't you have any feelings? Or are you such a cold hearted bitch you don't –"

"Shannon, just because your father isn't here to keep you in line –"

"You mean to slap me?"

"Shannon Rutherford, you need to show me some respect!"

"You don't deserve respect! You're totally fake, your stupid wedding thing is all about _love_ and family, but it's all total bullshit, like you give a shit about me and Boone!" With that, Shannon slapped her stepmother on the cheek.

"Get out of my house."

"It's my – "

"Get the hell out of my house!" she roared. "In ten minutes, I want your undeserving ass out of here!"

"I hate you."

"Out!" Shannon tore out of the kitchen, where several confused looking relatives sat, and up the stairs, where Boone stopped her. "What's going – "?

"Your mother just kicked me out of my house!" she sobbed. "I don't live here anymore!"

"Shannon –"

"I'm going to miss you so much!" she wrapped her arms around him tightly. "I've got to get away. Like, far away. I don't know when I'll be –" Tears streamed down her face.

"Shhhhh. You don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I –"

"I'll go talk to her, okay, honey?" he said sweetly.

"Oh…" she wiped her eyes. " Okay." Shannon entered her room, in a trance, for the last time, and located a duffle bag. She threw in skirts and sweaters and shoes, blankets, books, her CD player, and, as a second thought, a picture of her and Boone from a few weeks before and her credit card and some cash. Then she got her toothbrush. She stopped for a second, hearing yelling downstairs. Boone was saying,

"…Can't do this! Her father just…"

"She hit me! She's violent!"

"She's not – she's, she's confused! People often behave differently when –"

"Bullshit! She –"

"Like you know her at all! I'm the only one who ever made an effort to –"

"Did it work, though?"

"She's seventeen!"

"She'll be eighteen in a week!"

"Her birthday is April 13th! It's March!"

"Well- "

"It's not legal for minors to – "

"Fine! She can stay here until she's eighteen! But the day she – " Some of the relatives started giving Sabrina and Boone dirty looks. Shannon ran downstairs.

"No – you know what?" Said Cousin Edith, walking into the kitchen. "My daughter's and I are leaving. Thank you, um, we'll be going!" Shannon ignored her, and screamed at Sabrina, "I'm leaving anyway! Anything to get away from you, you filthy, rotten witch!" Sabrina and Shannon stared at each other, wrath in their eyes. It was bitch against bitch, and the combination did not mix well.

"Fine." Said Sabrina to Shannon, not averting her gaze. "Just don't ask me for any money."

"I'm in the will."

"I'm your legal guardian until you turn eighteen."

"So you're saying –"

"I get to keep it unless you're here for the reading and when you're eighteen."

"And when will that reading be?"

"I think I'm going to keep that information withheld." She said smoothly.

"You can't – " started Boone.

"Stay out of this!" said Shannon, and then to Sabrina, "Do you want me to hate you?"

"Does it matter? You aren't my daughter, and you don't live her anymore."

"Fine. I'll find my real mother."

"Camilla was a mess of a woman." Sabrina said disdainfully. "You know she left your father and eloped with that French bastard?"

"You haven't even met my mother."

"You haven't seen her since you were four."

"I was six, you bitch." She said menacingly. "She sent me a letter when I was fourteen, too. She's still in Paris." She paused, and added, sneering, "My dad, too. He was secretly corresponding with her."

"You're lying."

"You wish." Shannon tried to stamp out the waver in her voice.

"W-what?"

"Yeah. Now, if you'll excuse me, I only have a minute left to pack."


	5. Not Exactly Little Orphan Annie

**Chapter 5 – Not Exactly Little Orphan Annie **

Almost all of the bad news Shannon had ever received had been by way of telephone. October 28, 1991, Shannon was six, and all that ran through her mind were plans for her Halloween costume. You know how young kids are, when Halloween is the highlight of the entire year. Shannon had been sitting with two other pigtailed, freckled girls, when Miss Harrah, her raven-haired teacher, had solemnly led Shannon to the office and handed her the phone silently.

"Hello?" Asked Shannon earnestly. She was one of those children who had an adorably high-pitched voice, and until this call, was one of the poster children for cute little kids.

"Shit." Said David. "I don't know how to –"

"What's the matter, Daddy?" She had squeaked, completely unaware of what was going on.

"Your mother – she – "

"Is she coming home late from her vacation in Paris?"

"Shannon. Don't be dumb. She's gone. Fuck."

"You shouldn't use that word, Daddy. Miss Harrah told Robbie Mitchell, that is was very ba – "

"Don't you understand, kid?" This was when Shannon had known that something was very, very wrong. She would become accustomed to the new, bitter, and hard David, but at six years old, it was new to her.

"Understand what? Daddy, you're confusing me!" she cried.

"Then why don't you listen, you little brat!" Tears stung in Shannon's eyes.

"Don't be mean to me! Please tell me where Mommy is!"

"She left with that bastard…"

"What's a bastard?" He sighed in annoyance.

"Shannon, your mother doesn't love us anymore. She left with someone who, for whatever reason, she likes better."

"She doesn't love me?"

"Not anymore, I can't believe she's doing this to me!" David seemed to be fighting tears, Shannon could hear in his voice. "She can't just run away when things get bad, that bitch!"

"Dad…"

"I love her so damn much! Why is she doing this?"

"Dad…"

"Shannon, I think we're on our own now."

"She isn't coming back?" Shannon yelled.

"No. She's never coming back, not ever, and you won't be able to talk to her ever again. And I won't either, the way she pretends to love me… and you… she's just a fake, a manipulative, little self-centered bitch, and I love her so bad!"

"Dad, why are you telling me…"

"I'll see you at home, Shannon."

"What – but – "

"Bye, Shannon."

"Wait! Daddy, don't – " All Shannon could hear was the taunting buzz of the dial tone.

_You don't fucking know me… you don't fucking know me_… Boone's voice echoed in her head as she stepped out of the shower on that cool April day. The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She raced to pick it up, like there was anyone else in the house competing with her to answer it.

"Hello?"

"May I please have a Miss Rutherford?"

"Um, this is she. Are you selling something?" She sighed. She so did not have time for a telemarketer right now.

"This is Dr. Marcus Tillman, you're David Rutherford's daughter, correct?"

"What the hell is going on?" She asked, her voice tense.

"Your father, Mr. Rutherford, arrived in the ER this morning – "

"Is he okay?"

"He had been in a car accident – there was a building involved, and its effects were – "

"Do you have to do surgery?" She asked pointedly.

"Miss Rutherford, I need you to calm down. Perhaps you could take a seat."

"No, I don't think I will. I want to know what the _hell _is going on with my Dad!"

"The effects of the crash were fatal, Miss Rutherford."

"Excuse me?" she said, her voice cracking. Her irritation was replaced with a growing fear in the pit of her stomach. It pulled at her stomach, making her feel nauseous and starving at the same time. _No, no, no, no…._

"He passed away at four o' clock this afternoon."

"_No, no, no, no… NO_!" She sobbed, tears clouding her vision. "Is this a joke? No, this can't be – "

"I'm very sorry, ma'am."

"Is there anything that needs to be done?" No. He wasn't dead. No, no, no. He had been alive the day before! He had yelled at her last night, he had gone to sleep, he had – "Oh, fuck. He crashed the car, didn't he? Into the building? He was drunk… he… oh Jesus!"

"He was severely intoxicated – the combination of alcohol poisoning and the physical damage on his brain is what caused his death."

"Oh, Jesus. I – I'll be there in five minutes… is there… is my step mother there?"

"She identified the body at four fifteen."

"Why are you calling me now? It's five forty for fuck's sake! I'm his daughter!"

"We were – " Shannon hung up on Dr. Tillman, surprised at her own audacity.

**July 18, 2001.**

Shannon stepped out of the crowded Charles De Gaulle airport, two suitcases and a tattered envelope clutched in her hands. It read – _264 Rue de Napoleon, Paris._

Shannon remembered the day she had gotten the letter – she had been fourteen, and Boone had slowly handed it to her, like it was a time bomb. It was the most frightening thing that Shannon had ever seen. Would there be an explanation about why she left? Would she come and visit her? Her mother's handwriting on the envelope was familiar, curly and spindly like it had been when she taught Shannon to write the alphabet. Inside were two simple sentences. It said, "_Glad to say the cancer is in remission. I love you."_ It was so inadequate, yet she clutched onto it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

Today, Shannon stood awkwardly at the door, watching people come and go constantly. She waved down a taxi and took a deep breath. This was it. It was time for Camilla Rutherford to resurface in Shannon's life. Shannon sat in the dingy cab, thinking about how little she knew of Camilla. Camilla had been called Cammie when she was a child – it suited her free spirited personality. She had been prom queen, and there were pictures of her in a long, pale pink dress with sparkles, standing next to a stone-faced football player. But that night, Camilla had met David, a wiry nerd with glasses, and it had been love at first sight. Or was it lust? Shannon remembered Camilla telling the story before Shannon went to sleep at night to the four-year-old Shannon, who imagined that her mother, with the long blonde hair that flew behind her when she walked, was Cinderella. Somewhere in her little mind, a clutter of half-recycled princess stories, Shannon recalled remembering that David wasn't exactly Prince Charming.

Shannon had been born only a year later, when Camilla was the tender age of eighteen. David's parents disapproved of the flighty Camilla – they disowned him when Cammie got pregnant, because they were very old-fashioned, and Cammie and David weren't married yet. Shannon's maternal grandparents were sweet, lovely people, but Shannon had lost touch with them when Camilla left with Armand, who had lusted after Camilla since when they were sixteen and spent a summer in France together. Shannon still thought it sounded like a fairy tale.

And – in her letter, Camilla had said that her cancer was in remission. Shannon didn't know what kind of cancer it was, when she had gotten it, but in remission meant gone, so did it matter anymore? She knew nothing of her mother now. Had she outgrown her beauty, did she have a job? What was it, and was she even still living at 264 Napoleon? Had she had new children to replace Shannon? How would she react to the news of David's death?

"Madame," said the driver, "Rue de Napoleon." She clumsily handed him some coins. Shannon had taken a year of French, but had barely scraped by.

"Merci," she said, and looked up at number 264. The stone wall was covered in sprawling vines of ivy, and the whole apartment building seemed to mock Shannon, daring her to enter. Suddenly, tears stung her eyes. This was going to look so stupid! What if Camilla slammed the door in Shannon's face?

Shannon dialed Boone's number. He picked up on the third ring – "Hello?"

"Boone – I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"I'm standing in front of Camilla's house."

"You're in Paris? Have you been there long? I haven't heard from you in -"

"I'm standing in front of my fucking mother's house! What am I doing?" she cried.

"I know you can do it. It must be hard, not having seen her in… eleven years."

"Well, you wouldn't know, would you."

"I haven't seen my dad since last year, but – "

"I just walked up a step."

"That's great, Shan. Slow and easy, I know you can do it."

"What do you think she's going to say?"

"She'll hug you and she'll be very surprised. But happy."

"You think so?"

"I know it."

"This isn't a movie, it's not going to end that way. Something horrible is going to happen. Oh god, someone's opening the door. It's… it's a guy… I should go."

"Bye, Shannon. I'm really glad you called."

"Bonjour," said Shannon to the man cautiously. "_Parlez vous anglais_?"

"I speak English," he said with a slight accent. "My name is Jean."

"Oh, thank you. Um, I'm looked for Camilla Rutherford, she lives in this building – she – "

"Camilla Rutherford?"

"My mother."

"Your mother? Camilla?"

"Yes!" She answered, exasperated.

"I think that you should come inside for a moment, Miss – "

"It's Shannon."

"Come inside, Miss Shannon, you may want to sit down."

"Thank you." Shannon walked into the building warily, confused. Had something happened to Camilla?

"I don't know that much about the former tenant… but, I'll tell you what I know."

"Um." Former tenant?

"Mrs. Rutherford arrived here eleven years ago, when I was sixteen, with a very charming man called Armand," said the man, sitting at the other side of the table where Shannon was seated. "I lived in the room upstairs. Now I occupy both rooms."

"He wasn't charming, my mother left my father for him."

"Well, I hope your father had moved on."

"My father died three months ago."

"I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid that isn't the last of the bad news." A small boy who looked about four walked through the room. "My son, Pierre…" He said something to the boy in French, who smirked and walked away.

"Oh?" Thoughts raced through her head. Had the cancer come back? Had Camilla moved far away? Was she… no, she couldn't be.

"About two years after she moved in, she and Armand were quite pleased because she thought she was carrying his child. But after she came home from the doctor, she found out that she had a terrible disease. A cancer."

"I know. She sent me a… well, a note, when I was fourteen. Said it was in remission. That was four years ago."

"Yes, well, about that time, Armand left Camilla… he said it was too much for him to deal with. She was depressed and angry and lonely. Pretty soon, the cancer came back, and…"

"She died." She couldn't believe this! Her mother was _dead_!

"I wish it had been that peaceful, Miss Shannon."

"What do you mean?" Shannon didn't know if she could handle any more news today.

"Camilla wanted to end her suffering, so one night, with what little strength she had, she poisoned herself and went to bed."

"She never woke up, did she?" Shannon's voice cracked, and she stared at the floor in misery.

"No. I'm very sorry for your loss… both of your losses." Jean put his hand on top of Shannon's, comforting her.

"My mother killed herself." It sounded so real out loud. Her mother, the princess, the fairy, and the woman she had dreamed of having in her life for so long! She was gone, and her father too… and… there was nothing left anymore. Just Boone. Shannon couldn't remember a time when she had loved him more. No. Just when things couldn't get any worse… she couldn't be in love with him. She had to distance herself. Then maybe it would go away! Maybe _something_ would go right!

"If there's anything I can do, please let me know. I'll give you some time." Said Jean. Shannon Rutherford was alone. There was no one to guide her, no one who could show her the way. She was broke, alone, and an orphan. And she had to do something about that.


	6. Lying is just Temporary

_11/9/05 - I'm tacking on Chapter 7 to this Chapter, because Ch. 7 is just too short to be a chapter._

**Chapter 6 – Lying is Only Temporary **

_May 2002 - _

She awoke to a warm body wrapped around her. It was early, and she didn't want to be blinded by the bright sun. So she closed her eyes, and he ran his hand down her arm. It was so smooth, so comforting… she wanted him to keep it there forever. "Boone…" she sighed, "I love you."

"What?" said the ragged voice of Jean Bordeaux. Shit. Had she just said, 'Boone'?

"I said that I loved you," she answered quickly.

"I know, but before that?" he said pointedly, tightening his grip on her shoulders.

"I don't know." _Smooth_, she thought. Jean dislodged himself from her and stood up.

"Alright," he said suspiciously. "I must take Pierre to school now."

"Okay," she said, longing for someone to hold her and want her, so she could pretend it was… no. "Can you stay just a few more minutes?" She nodded to the bed suggestively.

"American girls think they need to prove their sex appeal to get men, don't they? You aren't an exhibitionist, Shannon."

"What?" What had she done now?

"Though it may come as a surprise to you," he smirked. What would Boone have said if she had asked him to stay with her for a few minutes? He would have cuddled against her and nuzzled her neck, he would have… _no_, a voice said, _you don't want Boone_. You're in love with Jean. _Jean, Jean, Jean_! Oh, who the fuck was she kidding?

"Don't talk to me like that," Shannon said, more than a little peeved.

"I was only kidding. See you this afternoon, love," he kissed her on cheek. 'Love', he called her. How very _European_ of him. Shannon rolled out of bed, put on some clothes, and headed towards the kitchen. That damn kid had been watching that idiotic movie again. "La Mer" wafted from the television set. She poured herself some cereal and sliced an apple. Had Camilla sliced an apple on this very same counter, the angelic portrait of a wife?

Shannon loved Jean's house when she was alone the most. She liked to imagine her mother in it, going about her daily life. In her fantasies, Cammie always looked flawless, smiling, patient, and pure – never right before her death, and especially not the night when she had dragged herself from her bed and let the bleach burn in her throat… no, that sent shivers down her back, made her want to throw up, or scrub herself until that image was erased from her memory.

Time for Shannon's daily argument with the telephone. Call Boone, or don't call Boone. The telephone teased her, sitting there nonchalantly. It was as if it begged to be used. The phone had won, once. She had called him and the conversation had been short, awkward, and meaningless. She hadn't told him about Camilla – she had practically fainted when she heard his voice. Despicable, like she was in love with him or something.

Today, Shannon stared at the shiny plastic cordless for a few lingering seconds, then turned back to slicing the apple into fourths, then eights, then sixteenths, then thirty-seconds. She ate three pieces. She smiled spitefully, Boone would have _hated_ this, begged her to eat more. He would have hated everything about her life… Jean, especially. Well, that made two of them.

Later that afternoon, Shannon went to the bank and was dumbfounded when the teller told her the final balance of her account. Shannon had to sit down for a moment – her worst fear had been granted… she was practically broke. God, life sucked. She was a pathetic thing, really – an orphan, broke, and dependent on some guy and his kid who she didn't know where he came from. And she loved Boone. _No_, said the voice in her head, but Shannon was too depressed to deny it further. Suddenly it came to her. She was broke… _Boone_.

But if she asked him for it, he would think of her as inferior, and tell her to get a job, laugh at her. She was the strong one, it always had to be that way, and she couldn't just ask him for money. And once she had it, what would she do? She didn't want to stay with Jean… maybe if she left him, she could find someone better. Someone more like Boone. But she didn't even like Boone. He was annoying as hell. But no one kissed her like he did. She sat at the bench at the bank for a while, and finally took out the remainder of her money and closed the bank account.

The plan came to her that night at dinner. Pierre was blowing bubbles in his milk, his father laughing at him and laughing at Shannon for her disgusted looks. God, she despised them both. Once, she had found Jean mysterious and sexy, now he was just stupid and cold. She kind of wished he would slap her, kick her, and do something that would give her a decent excuse to leave him. She couldn't just… God. That was it.

"Jean?" she said. He ignored her, chuckling at his son over something he had said. "Jean?" she repeated.

"Yes, Shannon?" he sighed.

"Didn't you say you were a little behind on the rent?"

"Jean tried to rape me a couple days ago," she said over the phone sadly, partially disgusted at her blatant lie, partially pleased at her acting abilities.

"_WHAT_?" Boone exploded.

"Can you come and get me… please?"

"Of course, just tell me how to get there and I'll – " Suddenly, to both of their surprises, Shannon started sobbing. Was she that great an actress? No… oh God, this was real.

"I miss you! Boone, I miss you so much… I…"

"It's okay… just stay away from him, I'll be there tomorrow, okay?"

"Yes," she sniffled. She looked at Jean, who looked rather disgusted.

"We're going to get the money from him, we're going to split it, and you'll come back to me? Right?" Shannon was quiet. She tapped her feet on the rug. Camilla's rug. "_Right?"_

"Yes."

When Boone knocked on the door of Jean's house, Shannon wanted to fuck him. She had to grab onto the door to keep herself from jumping on him, but that wasn't the proper behavior of a girl who had just been raped. Or of a girl in the presence of her boyfriend.

"Hi," she said, and hugged him quickly. If she hugged him too long, got too used to the shape of his body, she wouldn't be able to let him go.

"Hey, Shannon. I missed you." He smiled, so real and genuine. A sinking feeling of guilt pervaded her stomach.

"I missed you, too." She couldn't help but hug him again. This time she sunk into his chest, her arms tightly around his neck. She could feel his heart beating, and Shannon felt so warm and safe…

"Shannon." He said. "I –" he was going to let go. No, no, no! Boone let go, but Shannon just stayed there, pressed into him. He kissed her forehead. Oh god, she felt awful.

"What's going on?" said Jean suspiciously. Boone looked at him; his eyes furious as he looked at the person he had thought raped his sister. Shannon finally let go, and backed away from Jean like she was supposed to.

"I – " she started saying the line she had planned, "I'm leaving you, Jean."

"Excuse me?" Well, wasn't Shannon the poster-child bitch? Fucking with not one, but two people's minds. And other parts…

"I'm just going to go to the bathroom, and I'll be off." She exited to the bathroom, and pressed her ear to the door, listening to Boone's "tough" voice.

"What's that?" Jean was saying.

"A check."

"For what?"

The second Boone and Shannon got to the hotel, Shannon, unrestrained, kissed Boone. It was slow and questioning, with just the tiniest hint of tongue. She was expecting him to argue, but no words came from his mouth. He just kissed back, harder and with more urgency, but after a few minutes, it was Shannon who pulled away. "No," she whispered. He looked surprised, but respected her orders.

Then Shannon went downstairs to call Jean. "Hi," she said quietly into her cell phone from the lobby.

"What was that? You weren't supposed to leave! That isn't how we said it was going to happen!"

"Hey," she laughed, "Calm down, it's not true! I'm coming back in a few weeks, I promise! Just send me the money, and then I'll be back.

"Um," said Jean.

"I _love_ you," she lied.

"I'll send it today."

"Just to the post office, I'll get it from there. Okay?"

"Yeah." She hated herself so much right now. What the hell was her problem? Was she born this way, or was it her fault? And did she want to change her ways? _No, not really_. Said the voice in her head. Did she really want a guy like sweet, innocent Boone? _No, not really_. _Well... maybe_. Was she going to go back to Jean like she had said?

_Fuck no. _

* * *

Shannon trudged down the hall and entered room 481 again. "Hello?" she said to the empty suite. "Boone, where are you?" Shadows loomed on the dusk stricken walls, and air rushed through the open window… Camilla mercilessly poured that drippy white bleach down her throat, in the dark, her perfectly manicured fingers trying to shield her fall… Shannon couldn't chase that image from her head. "Boone, where ARE you?" Her voice filled with panic. Suddenly, she heard a door creak, and Boone emerged. "Boone!" She grabbed his hands and forced them around her. "I was so scared, I…" He rocked her back and forth, his lips resting on the top of her head.

"I'm right here, Shan." He told her. She could feel his breath on her hair. "It's okay now."

"No, it's not. I – she's gone… she didn't love me, nobody loves me, I'm just a pathetic… she's gone!" Tears sprung into her eyes.

"God, Shannon, that is so not true. You don't realize – you're so special, we, I mean, lots of people care about you… and, who's gone?"

"Name one person who loves me. Just one."

"I – " he started, but then he was silent. Then she was full-out bawling, the tears would not stop coming.

"I used to be so nice, and now I'm just a filthy little slutty bitch, I don't deserve – " I don't deserve you, she was going to say, but didn't.

"It's that what that guy told you? God, I'm so furious at him, I'd kill him if I could, just, I can't stand to see you in so much pain."

"She's dead."

"What?"

"My mother, she's dead. She… it's my fault, if I had made more effort she wouldn't have felt so alone, like I do now." Boone sat on the bed, and she sat beside him, her head on his shoulder. He wiped her tears with him thumb, and held her close to his chest.

"Did she – "

"She had cancer, then that guy left her… and she… poured… she poured…" He clasped her fingers in his hand, urging her to go on. "Bleach." Shannon noticed Boone's face pale. "Down her… throat… it – it killed her and I get scared that it'll happen to me, too. That I might become her."

"No… you're so strong, Shannon," he brought his lips to her ear and whispered, "So much stronger than I'll ever be… when I think of you, I think of this amazing, beautiful, st – "

"But that's not me." Shannon felt so guilty…

"Yes, it is. I – " She knew what he was going to say, but she couldn't hear it right now, so she looked in his eyes and placed her lips on his, moving them slightly. Then she pulled away, and kissed him again, numerous quick pecks on his lips. He was going along, not trying anything more, but not holding back either. They were very slow – inquisitive and searching. These kisses were the rare ones that demonstrated their true feelings – not the urgent, usual ones that were about sex and sex only.

He held her to his chest and placed a single, lingering kiss upon her neck. She put her arms around his shoulders and just looked at him. He was looking back, amazed and utterly intrigued by her. She wondered how he could find her so remarkable, what was so special? She also wondered how her expression differed. "I just want you to be happy…" he whispered, so quiet she could barely hear. Shannon couldn't think of a time when she had loved him more. Oh god, she was falling now, sinking into the crook of his arm as he rocked her delicate body to sleep. As she drifted off, she could feel the warmth of his mournful smile hovering above her, his finger leisurely tracing over her cheek, her collarbone, and arms. Finally, he lay her down on the bed and whispered something – oh, how Shannon knew what he had said… and it was so true, so bare and true. And Shannon had lied… she was still lying…

She sensed Boone sitting there for a moment, then he climbed up next to her, his arms around her, protecting her and making her feel safe for the first time in a long time. His warm breath sighed into her ear, and she didn't even try to suppress the shiver that ran down her back.

Hours later, their bodies matched up with one another, they were each painfully and wonderfully aware of this. They each wished they could stay this way forever, dreading the mask that daylight would bring to their faces.


	7. Reverse Deja Vu

**Chapter 7 – Reverse Deja Vu **

Boone and Shannon were pretending to be asleep and they both knew it. It was well past morning; light peaked in through the closed curtain. The comforter was stuffed at the foot of the bed and the sheets clung to their intertwined legs. His arms were carefully wrapped around the hem of her t-shirt, where she was facing him, her face buried into the crook of his neck. Her hands grazed against his knees. They both stirred occasionally, but they didn't want to wake up and face daily life – shallow arguments and childish fits… but especially, they didn't want to face their obvious feelings towards each other. And Shannon didn't want to face the feeling of guilt that was gnawing at her stomach. She hated the feeling… but would she do it again? Probably.

He placed his fingers at the nape of her neck and slowly moved them down each bone in her spine until he rested his hands at her lower back. She shivered, and he hugged her closer to his chest. "Shan," he whispered.

"Shhhhh…" She told him. She wanted to stay like this _forever_, but she didn't dare say it out loud.

"Baby, we have to catch the plane today," he murmured. God, she loved it when he called her "baby." _No…_

"Mmmmm mmm," she said.

"Does that mean 'yes' or 'no'?" He opened his eyes. It was over. He slowly let go of her arms and rolled out of bed.

"No…." she moaned, "Come back to bed."

"I can't – Shan, you've got to get up."

"What time's it?"

"Shit – it's ten thirty!"

"Why 'shit'?" She was still curled up, with her eyes closed, on the bed.

"Because we have to leave here at eleven!"

"Huh?"

"Shannon, get up!"

"Noooooo…."

"_Yesssss!_" He imitated her.

"Why didn't you get a late one so we can sleep on the plane?" She opened her eyes. Great. Reality.

"Because I –" he faltered.

"Why not?"

"Uhhhh…"

"Boone!"

"When we get back to LA, it'll be like lunchtime tomorrow and –"

"Yes?" she said emphatically.

"I sort of told my mom we'd have lunch with her." She shot out of bed.

"_What?_" she whispered furiously.

"I – "

"I heard what you said, assface! I am NOT having lunch with that disgusting bitch! How dare YOU?" she said with a hitch in her voice.

"I thought it would be good if we made up with her."

"_We_? Don't you mean 'I'? You're still talking to her! I mean, you're supposed to be on my side!"

"I'm not on anyone's side!"

"Sure, Boone. You only talk to her because if you're a nice little mommy's boy she'll give you a job at her _stupid_ – "

"Look, _princess, _I love you both – you're my family and I want to be able to talk to you without my mom getting pissed and the other way around! So try to control yourself, Shannon! Don't SLAP her again!" He slammed the door and Shannon could hear the shower running.

She pushed open the door. Thank god he was already in there. "I am so glad we didn't FUCK last night!"

"Yeah, we did." He sighed.

"No! Or maybe it's your wishful thinking, or some perverted dream you –"

"We didn't actually fuck, but we –"

"You didn't stick your –"

"_Shut up_!"

"So how much did you have to pay Sabrina to get her to have lunch with me?"

"I didn't pay her, unlike you, I –"

"Oh stop acting like you're fuckin' God! And hurry up, if I don't get a shower, I'll kill you!" '_Love you'_ said a voice in her head sardonically. "Shut the fuck up!"

"I didn't say anything, Shannon! Now can't I take a shower in peace?"

Two hours later, Shannon sat at the gate, flipping through _Cosmopolitan_, her eyes shooting daggers at Boone. He glared right back. They were lucky they were still alive. Shannon was on caffeine high and Boone hadn't slept at all the previous night. These two things did _not_ mix. If Shannon had her way, she would tear him up into pieces, he pissed her off so damn much. She was mentally doing this, but then, to her embarrassment, found herself mentally undressing him. _Damn you_, she cursed herself.

"Shannon?"

"Yeah, _what_?" she asked, annoyed. He looked at her, a little stung. _God, he was hot_.

"Um... I'm sorry... I should have asked you about..."

"No, you shouldn't have." He looked relieved. "You knew I'd say no, so you set it up behind my back." His expression changed again. Jesus, Boone was just like a puppet. His emotions changed instantly, just from her words and her tone. It was kind of amusing.

"First and Business class is boarding for flight 1516 to Los Angeles," said the smooth voice of a flight attendant over the PA.

"That's us," said Boone, standing up and taking her bag.

"I can _hear_," she tried again.

"Take your own fucking bag," he sighed. Damnit, it didn't work that time! They stood in line behind an older, grandmotherly, lady. Shannon realized that her children would never have a grandmother to knit for them and bake cookies with them.

"I don't _want_ to take my bag, Boone."

"Well, you're going to."

"Why?"

"Because you're a bitch." He said absently. The old lady ahead of them looked back at them with a disapproving look on her face.

"Thanks, _sweetheart." _She said sarcastically.

"Just give it a rest," he sighed. They were silent as they boarded the plane in irritated silence. She rolled her carry-on bag over his toes by accident, and he said, "Jesus, Shannon!" For some reason, this hurt Shannon's feelings, even though she didn't generally care when Boone got pissed off at her.

"I didn't mean to," she answered stubbornly. He didn't respond. She brushed up against him. "I didn't!"

"Okay, I'm sorry." When her words didn't do the trick, her touch would. God, he was predictable. She located seat 4D and 4E and sat by the window.

"Yes, thank you, Shannon, I would like the window seat." He said.

"Fuck you."

"_Love you too, baby_," he answered.

"Funny, you said the same thing last night." He looked uncomfortable, and then sat down. A little girl looked up at them, their mother glaring at Shannon contemptuously. "You know, when we were - " He kicked her hard in the shins. Then the plane started moving.

If there was one thing that Shannon and Boone had in common, it was fear of flying. They were both _so frightened _of heights, and the air, and the claustrophobic environment. They instinctively grabbed hands as the plane increased speed. His sweaty hand was clutching onto hers, and she squinted her eyes closed. "Boonelet'sstopfighting," she said in one breath. "Incasewedie".

"Okay, just breathe."

"I'm breathing."

"Oh god..." he sighed. The plane was going so fast on the runway, her whole body was tense.

"It's coming, it's coming!" she muttered, clinging onto him for dear life.

"We're going to die, we're gonna die!" Then the plane lifted off. She sighed in relief. But then the plane was going up, up, up, higher into the air.

"We aren't going to die!" he exclaimed. She smiled weakly, and laughed.

"We're insane," she said.

"Hey, don't get _me_ into this," he said good-naturedly. She looked around and noticed that the old woman, the lady, and her daughter were staring at them in confusion.

"We have... um, flying issues," she supplied. They still looked rather alienated.

"How much do you think they heard?" he whispered.

"All of it, sonny!" said the old woman. Shannon suppressed the urge to crack up laughing. She smiled at the lady, and looked back at Boone, who was looking down and blushing. About ten minutes later, Boone leaned over and whispered to Shannon, his breath on her ear, "You can let go of my hand now."

* * *

The next day, Shannon and Boone tentatively walked into the restaurant, where Sabrina was waiting impatiently in a Chanel suit at an outdoor table. "Hi, mom," said Boone, kissing her on the cheek. Shannon sat down next to him. She was actually quite a bit frightened of Sabrina, though she didn't like to admit it. Her hands shook a little as she took a sip of her water.

"How was the flight?" asked Sabrina, still ignoring Shannon.

"Um... not bad..." said Boone, nudging Shannon.

"_What_?" asked Shannon, an edge in her voice.

"Never mind."

"So what were you doing in Paris, again?" Sabrina asked. She totally knew what he had been doing, playing dumb, that bitch.

"Um," said Boone, "I was getting Shannon because her boyfriend was... abusive." She nodded, wondering when Jean was going to send the money.

"That's too bad," said Sabrina stiffly.

"Should we order drinks?" asked Boone.

"I suppose. _Waiter_!" She snapped her fingers in an affected way. Shannon couldn't notice hints of a smirk appear on Boone's face.

"I'm going to get the white wine... that one," said Sabrina, pointing to the most expensive one on the menu. "Maybe Shannon can pronounce it for me?"

"Um... it's pronounced _Deverciaux_..." she said.

"So, are you fluent in French, now?"

"No."

"Oh," said Sabrina.

"I'll just have water," said Boone to the waiter.

"Me, too." said Shannon.

"So, did Boone tell you?" started Sabrina, "He's going to do an internship at my company!"

"Cool," said Shannon, trying to appear interested.

"Yeah," said Boone, absently playing with his fork.

"Don't do that!" said Sabrina.

"Sorry, mom."

"Forgotten! So, I've been remodeling the house, it's so tragic, being alone after David's unfortunate..."

"Yeah..." said Boone.

"Um -" started Shannon, her first voluntary words that afternoon, "Sabrina?"

"Yes?" she answered pointedly.

"I just... I just wanted to say that I like your sweater," she smiled questioningly.

"Thank you," said Sabrina genuinely. Boone patted her knee under the table. She tried not to shiver.

"I did get some pretty cute clothes in France, though. You'd like some of the things there," Shannon said. Why the fuck was she being so nice?

"Thanks, Shannon. That's sweet." Shannon had never heard her name and the word 'sweet' used in the same context before.

Eventually, after much uncomfortable conversation, they ate their various orders in silence - Boone got chicken, Sabrina got, what else, caviar, and Shannon got a salad and ate a quarter of it. Finally, it was about time to leave, after they had paid the bill, and Boone looked at Sabrina pointedly, trying to be subtle but failing.

"Oh - oh!" Said Sabrina, catching on. "Um, Shannon? I just thought, well, it was very nice of you to come eat with me, especially after what..." She looked at Boone, who was urging her to go on. Shannon rolled her eyes at him. "I'm just glad we're getting along now."

"Uh huh," said Shannon, looking at Boone's very unsmooth hand gestures. It really made her want to hug him. Maybe she would be able to, because she had _survived_, oddly enough, and they would be in the car in a few minutes.

"Well," said Boone, "Shannon and I are tired, so I'll take her home, and I guess I'll meet you back later?"

"That sounds... that sounds fine."

"Good!" Said Boone, relieved. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" He whispered as they left.

"It was _horrible_, I totally hate you for making me go!" she whined.

"Uh huh..." said Boone, "Sure."

"You totally owe me!" Shannon said, "When we get in the car, you owe me a back massage!"

"When we get home," he compromised.

"Yeah."

As Shannon and Boone arrived in the driveway, Shannon decided to check the mail. There, labeled "Rush" was a small package. It was the check.


	8. Dinnertime Woes

**Ch. 9- Dinnertime Woes**

The second that Shannon found out that Boone was bringing a girl over for dinner, she put on another layer of lip gloss, changed into her favorite bikini, and walked across the street to the beach to find herself a guy. Because Shannon wasn't the type of girl to wallow in self- pity – she liked to take charge. Or maybe she just preferred to think that.

Upon arriving, she flipped up her Coco Chanel sunglasses and surveyed the scene. Bright Malibu sun, kids building sandcastles, jock wannabes throwing around footballs, surfers… surfers. There was one, she noticed, a little of the way up the beach, who had dusty blonde hair and looked like he was about twenty-five. She watched him walk back to where he was sitting, and, in turn, Shannon set up her towel near his. "Is anyone sitting here?" She asked.

"Nope," said the guy, grinning.

"So, do you surf a lot?" She asked.

"How'd you know I was a surfer?" Ah, perfect opportunity to compliment him.

"Well – you have a great tan, first of all, and your hair is bleached from being in the sun a lot." She paused. "And – there's the ever obvious clue that you're sitting next to a surfboard."

"Ah," he said, laughing, "That would do it, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah," she said. "What's your name?"

"Oh – I'm Andy," said the guy. "And you are –"

"Shannon." She said. This was going to be so easy.

"So what brings you here alone on such a nice day?"

"What brings you here alone on such a nice day?" She retorted. She took off her shirt and shorts to expose her black and pink bikini, stretching languidly. She could feel his eyes looking her up and down. "What?" She said, faux-stupid.

"Oh – nothing." He blushed. Shannon always thought it was cute when guys blushed. Boone blushed too. Shut up, she mentally chastised herself.

"Want to go get something to eat at the Snack Bar?" He asked.

"Sure!" She answered.

A few minutes later, as they walked back with two smoothies, Shannon asked, "So – is surfing like your hobby or your job?"

"Well, my parents wanted me to go to college, be a lawyer, and all that shit. But I really didn't want to, I wanted to be a surfer… right now I'm being sponsored, so, life is pretty good."

"What did your parents do?"

"Oh, they're okay about it now, they even bought me a house just a few blocks from here." Money – check. "What about you? What do you do?"

"Um…" she took a deep breath, "It's kind of a long story, but somehow I didn't end up finishing high school because I had to – find something for myself, so right now I'm in summer school to finish. After that? I don't know, really. I don't really know what I'm good at."

"What does your family think?"

"Well, my mom and dad are dead –"

"I'm so sorry." He immediately said.

"It's fine," she dismissed. "My evil stepmother doesn't give a shit, she just wants me out of her hair because she runs this stupid company and… well, you don't want to hear this…" She trailed off.

"Yes, I do," he said as they sat down on their beach towels.

"Well, my step mom wants me out of the house after summer school, and my brother wants me to go to college, get a job… he thinks I should be a lawyer." She smiled in spite of herself. "Because I'm good at arguing."

"Huh," he answered. "Well, I've only known you for ten minutes, but you seem like one of those girls that can do whatever they want. That's a good thing."

"Thanks."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen," she said. "You?"

"I'm twenty-four."

"Oh. So do you have any siblings?"

"Yeah – I've got a sister, she's thirty-one… getting married. She thinks she's too young, but I think 31 is a little old. I always thought I'd get married really young, but young is almost over."

"Yeah," she said honestly. "Me too." But when Shannon thought of the future, she thought of her and Boone, with two little kids and another one on the way – maybe with a dog and a big white house with a pool … but that would never happen.

That night, Andy invited Shannon to a party, and by the end of it, he was drunk as hell, Shannon only slightly drunk, and making out in his car. When they got to her house, she invited him in, but right before they were about to dispense of the remainder of their clothes, something in Shannon's mind clicked. What was she doing? She wanted a friggin' boyfriend, not a one-night-stand! "Um," she said, "Andy? Don't you think this is a little fast?"

"What?"

"I think we should stop," she insisted.

"You can't just lead a guy on an' leave him hanging'?"

"Yeah, I can. So how abut you go home, drink some coffee, and call me tomorrow and we'll have a real date then?"

"What?" he said angrily. But five minutes later he was gone.

And… he called her the next morning to apologize for his behavior and ask her to breakfast and Shannon happily accepted. Shannon gave one thing to Andy; he really knew how to impress a girl. He took her to a fancy restaurant, and they sat outside and he complimented her constantly. At the end, they shared a tender kiss and that was that. Shannon thought she might actually be developing a crush on him.

* * *

That evening, Shannon was primping by the mirror when the doorbell rang. She had been so distracted in trying to impress Andy that she had forgotten about Boone and his new girlfriend coming for dinner. Fuck. She so did not want to do this. She considered pretending to be sick, but then realized that Boone would see right through that. Maybe she would be nice to her and then turn it around and be totally awful to her. Yes, that should be fun. She smiled to the mirror and scampered down the stairs.

"Hi… Emily?" She said breathlessly to the girl, who Boone had his arm around. Not jealous, not jealous, not jealous… "Hi," she said to him quietly. He gave her that special smile that he reserved only for her. "Sabrina's in the kitchen, yelling at Karen or something!" She said brightly. She looked at Emily – yup, she was blonde, tall and looked ridiculously smiley.

"I'm Shannon, by the way."

"Yeah, I know! Boone told me all about you!" Great, she was an exclamation-point girl. "I think it's so cute how you guys are so close!" Shannon wondered if the idea of them fucking was so cute (!) too. She noticed he was blushing.

"Yeah!" Shannon exclaimed. "I haven't even really said hello, yet!" Hell, if Emily was going to be an exclamation-point girl, Shannon could, too. Without further ado, she gave Boone a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, just to bother him, and then she gave Emily a little squeeze too. Yeah, she could totally do phony.

"Oh, hello," said Sabrina, finally arriving. "Sorry for the delay, Karen was overcooking the lobster." Boone and Shannon smiled at each other. Emily didn't seem to understand the joke, and Shannon loved that.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Carlyle, I really wanted to because you designed my sister's wedding dress! Also, how did you know lobster is like, my favorite food!"

"Nice to meet you, too, Emily. I guess we'll all go ahead and sit down." Shannon sat next to Boone, who sat across from Emily, and Sabrina sat at the end of the table. This was going to be so awkward.

While Sabrina, Emily, and Boone engaged in small talk, Shannon just stared at him, desperate for his reaction. Finally, he looked back, smiled a "stop-that-right-now" smile, and went back to Emily, who was telling Sabrina a dumb story about some cute (!) thing she did in first grade. After a few minutes, Shannon got bored and tapped her foot against Boone's. He kicked it away, but Shannon took this as a response and dug her toe into his calf, climbing her foot higher and higher up his pant leg. He tried to slap it away, but a few seconds later, he was running his foot up and down her leg, too.

"So! Shannon!" Squeaked Emily. "How's your summer!"

"Um…" she started, distracted by the rather R- rated placement of her foot. "Okay. I'm almost done with Summer School," she rolled her eyes. "But I did meet this really –" she dug her foot deeper… "cute – " again, but harder… "Guy yesterday!" She smiled, but to people who knew her better it was more of a smirk. Boone glared at her. "He's a surfer!"

"Oh my god! How cool!"

"I know!" Shannon squealed enthusiastically.

"Well, I met a really cute guy this summer too!" Exclaimed Emily. Shannon laughed exaggeratedly. "And I," Oh god… "Am in…" Shit… "Love!" Fuck you!

"Ha!" She giggled rather menacingly. "Oh look, you embarrassed him!" Please, Emily hadn't embarrassed him, Shannon had her foot jammed into his... Anyway! After they were done eating, Emily asked if she could help with the dishes. Dishes? Please.

"Nonsense, sweetheart, Rosita will do the dishes! I need to catch up with my son, why don't you and Shannon go girl-talk upstairs or something?" Oh! Great!

"Yeah, you should come upstairs, I'll show you this great new hair stuff I just got!"

"Okay!" Damn her and her exclamation points. "Tell me more about your boyfriend!"

"Well… I don't know if he's my boyfriend yet…" They walked up the stairs and into Shannon's room. Emily sat on the bed as Shannon tried to locate said hair stuff.

"We made out," continued Shannon, "But it's not like we're an official couple yet."

"Oh."

"You're not one of those no-sex people, right?" Asked Shannon, "You sound offended."

"Oh no – I was just thinking… no, definitely not a no-sex person!" She laughed. Translation - total slut." Just between you and me, though?"

"Of course." Now she was going to get some good blackmail.

"He is like – "Emily lowered her voice, "So good!" Shannon resisted the urge to say "I know" and instead wrinkled up her nose and said, "Didn't need to know that!"

"Sorry! But he seems to think I'm good, too, he –" Well, thought Shannon, I'll keep that in mind if I ever want to do group.

"Um," said Shannon, "ew." Long, awkward pause. "So, here's this hair stuff. It's for blondes, so I thought you – "

"Hey, Em?" Boone called from the stairs. "My mom is sort of kicking us out,"

Emily giggled. "Okay! Hang on, let me go to the bathroom first!" Emily gave Shannon a little wave and scampered down the stairs.

Walking into Shannon's room, Boone whispered, "I can't believe you!"

Shannon smiled innocently. "Why?"

"You – you…" he blushed and lowered his voice more. " You made me hard at the dinner table!"

"I didn't make you do anything."

"God, you're such a bitch," he shook his head, smiling in spite of himself.

"You love it," Shannon said, stepping a little closer.

"You made me hard at the dinner table!" He sputtered again.

"I could do it again if you'd like," she said seductively, running her hand down his arm.

"Are you drunk?"

"No, I'm not drunk! I'm just – "

"Pathetically horny? You want to do your brother when he's here with a committed, serious relationship – are you that desperate to get laid?"

"No! I – "

"I should go. I'll see you." He attempted to kiss her on the cheek, but then moved his lips towards her lips, and then they were kissing in a way that was a little more than friendly. He pulled back, looking a little ashamed. "I've got to go."

"Me too. I'm meeting Andy for dessert." Boone rolled his eyes. "You are a boyfriend's worst nightmare."

"But I hear I make a pretty decent wet dr – "

"You are unbelievable, you know that?" He started leaving, and as he departed, Shannon said, "Hey, Boone?" He looked back dubiously. "You love it."


	9. Coffee Grinds and Compromises

**Chapter 9 – Compromises and Coffee Grinds **

Shannon sat in the dark apartment, keys jangling, a sleepy Jake lying on the floor at the end. Andy really had been _so_ nice! He was so laid back at first… but Shannon realized now that it had just been a show.

She had been sitting here since eleven, and now it was close to midnight. Where _was he_? Shannon's fingers traced the bruise on her shoulder. In some sick, twisted way, she was oddly proud of it- now she would be taken seriously. She wondered what Andy was doing right now – was he partying it up with a bunch of playboy bunnies, doing so many shots he couldn't count? Or was he wallowing in self-pity, watching reruns, vodka held in appropriate hand? No matter what he was doing, Shannon was sure it had something to do with alcohol. But no big deal, it was only, you know, their friggin' wedding night.

More importantly, where _was_ Boone? Probably off with the _so cute_ (!) Emily, being all polite and lovesick over dinner. Ick. How could Boone even claim to be in love with Emily? He was _supposed_ to be in love with her! But she wasn't jealous, no, not jealous at all.

Shannon wondered what Boone's reaction would be when he found her there. He'd probably be upset at first, but then he would – oh shit, this wasn't how it was supposed to be! She was supposed to knock on his door, and he would see her forlorn expression and let her in, no questions asked. Then he'd hug her and tell her he loved her and she deserved so much better… who the fuck had she been kidding?

Suddenly, Jake stirred. Shannon heard a key fumbling with the lock, and two (two!) voices.

"Wanna come in?" He was saying. Say no, say no! Emily giggled.

"Of course!" More giggling. Oh shit, they were probably making out now.

"Let me open the door!" He said good-naturedly.

"Yeah, sorry!" What was he going to say? The door opened and Shannon sat up. Jake stood up, wagging his tail and making excited- dog noises. "_Well, hewo, liddle puppy_!" Stupid Emily. Shannon noticed with triumph that Jake didn't seem to like Emily very much. They still didn't see her, he hadn't turned on the lights yet. Oh, gross! They were kissing again! This was so fucking awkward. Shannon coughed.

"What was that!" said Emily. He turned on the light and looked at her – his expression purely disgusted. It made Shannon want to shrivel up and die. "Shannon! Wow! I didn't expect to see you here! Gave me quite a fright! What are you… why are you here!" Emily squealed.

"Shannon, what are you doing here?" He asked, glaring. She looked at the floor.

"Um…"

"How did you get in?" Shannon held up the key weakly. "You took my keys?" _Oh, how stupid was he_?

"No, you gave them to me."

"Oh." He said. "You were supposed to give them back!"

"What!" Said Emily, confused.

"You never told me to give them back!"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Why would it be – "

"Well, after we…. After we…"

"What is going on!" Exclaimed Emily, confused. "After you _what_?"

"Emily, I –"

"_Don't tell her_!" Shannon yelled.

"Don't tell me what?" Said Emily suspiciously. Shannon could tell that she was getting annoyed by the lack of exclamation points in her sentence.

"Never mind." Said Boone. "Shannon, why did you come?"

"It was Andy, he…"

"Wasn't tonight your wedding night?"

"Yes! I told him I didn't want to have sex because he was so drunk and he hit me!" This wasn't even a lie. "He's always so drunk…"

"Oh, my god!" Exclaimed Emily.

"So I left him, and I didn't want to go stay with your mother because I hate your mother, so I came here!" She cried.

"Wait," said Emily. "Your mother? What do you mean?"

"Shannon and I are step-siblings," said Boone. "Her dad married my mom and her dad is dead now."

"Oh." Emily said. "You could have told me that before."

"So can I stay?"

"I guess," said Boone, looking apologetically at Emily. Shannon headed towards his bedroom.

"Um," said Boone, "You're going to have to sleep on the couch."

"Okay! You know what!" Emily suddenly squealed, "Can somebody please tell me what's going on! I am just so confused, but if it's what I'm thinking, that is just – ew, but I know, it's not that because you're _too_ normal, so I'm not right, _right_?" Emily blabbered, looking at them. Each of their expressions were extremely guilty.

"Emily – " Started Boone.

"It _is_ true! That's gross! I don't want to talk to you!"

"I can explain –"

"I'm just going to go now!" Emily backed away warily, as if she was afraid of them.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Shannon suddenly said. "Are you scared of us?"

"This is like 'Cruel Intentions' or some – "

"Are you honestly about to make a movie reference right now?" Shannon said disbelievingly.

"You are such a Kathryn!"

"You're really stupid, you know that?" Said Shannon.

"At least I'm not _in_sect_ual_!"

"_In_sect_ual_? What the fuck does that – "

"Incestual! Whatever!" Emily started crying.

"Emily, just – "

"Shut up, Boone! I'm leaving!" And with that, she slammed the door behind her.

"I'm sorry." Said Shannon in a little voice.

"It's okay." He said through gritted teeth.

"Do you think she'll tell anyone?"

"All that matters is what happens to _you,_ huh?"

"It's true what I said, you know, about Andy."

"Why wouldn't it be true?" Right, he didn't know she had lied about Jean. "Shannon, you really should be more careful with – "

"I don't want to talk about it." She said firmly. "Do you want to get some sheets for the sofa bed for me?"

"No, it's fine, you can stay with me."

"Okay."

"Okay." Suddenly, something in Shannon's mind clicked. "Boone, we're getting too old for this. We can't - I mean, we've got to stop messing around!" Sure, it was fun to make out and stuff, but if it got anymore serious, their feelings would get too serious. Like they hadn't already.

"Yeah." He said. Oh god, the look he had in his eyes was heartbreaking. He _really had it bad_. And Shannon didn't quite understand how anyone could truly believe she was that special. But somehow, she knew that he did, and he probably wouldn't ever stop. Now Shannon had a power – maybe she had been a little bit in love with him in July, maybe she had been in love ten minutes ago, but she wasn't anymore, she claimed, and swore to herself that she never would be again.

"I mean, we were just messing around, right?" She said, but she was really just trying to convince herself that it hadn't been anything more.

"Yeah." He said, looking thoroughly unconvinced.

"It's not like we're in love."

"No!" He said quickly, too quickly. He was in love, but she wasn't. And she could totally use that to her advantage. "I guess I'll just set up the couch bed, then?"

"Yeah." She sighed. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Boone and his damn coffee grinder woke up Shannon the next morning at the ungodly hour of 7:30 AM. She rolled out of bed and walked into the kitchen, reached over him arm, and shut off the grinder.

"What the fuck?" He said.

"I'm trying to sleep!"

"I'm trying to make coffee!"

"Jesus!" She exclaimed.

"Oh my god, this is so _horrible_!" He said sarcastically.

"Shut the hell up!"

"Shannon, you are pissing me off! I have class in an hour, and you can't just come in like you own the place and – "

"I can do whatever I want." They were interrupted by the condescending ding of the doorbell.

"I'll get that," Said Boone, headed for the door. Shannon stood in the kitchen, and, indifferent to who it was, probably a Jehovah Witness or whatever, poured herself a glass of orange juice.

"Hi," she heard Boone say.

"Um, I'm looking for Shannon." Said a guy. _Andy! Fuck_!

"Are you Andy, by any chance?"

"Yeah… look dude, you probably hate me, but – "

"Shannon's not here."

"Oh." Screw Boone for assuming her reaction!

"I'm here. Jesus, _Boone_, let me speak for myself, would you? I want to speak with Andy alone."

"Okay," he said.

Shannon was suddenly very aware that her hair was a mess and that she was clad in only a t-shirt and boy shorts. "Look Andy," she said emphatically. "I want to –"

"Shannon, just listen to me, please! I was up all night because I felt so guilty for what I did! It was inexcusable, and I swear it'll never happen again."

"You were drunk."

"I _love you_, Shannon!"

"You're always drunk. You always want to do it when I don't want to you, you – "

"It won't happen again!"

"I don't think you love me at all, Andy. I think you love, you know _fucking_ me, but I don't think you like anything else."

"That's not – "

"I think you should give me some time, Andy."

"But –"

"I'll see you." She said icily, closing the door.

Two days later, on Wednesday, Andy came back, unannounced. That was when Boone paid him to leave.

"So," said Shannon after he left. "What did he say?"

"He said that he loved you and he wasn't going to take the money because it wasn't 'honorable'. I had to beg him to take it."

"Did he sound guilty?"

"Yeah." Sighed Boone. "But you have to remember, he hit you. Don't forgive him, Shannon."

"I wasn't going to!" She snapped.

When Shannon went to check the mail on Friday, there was an envelope from Andy. In it was a check for 20 thousand dollars. A note fluttered from the envelope, and in sloppy, drunken letters, it read, _"I am fucking scum. Couldn't take the $_."

Shannon could barely contain herself from running through the house waving the check in Boone's face. She practically skipped inside, and exclaimed, "I'm going to buy an apartment!" to a perplexed looking Boone, who was eating cereal in the kitchen. She sat down, carefully hiding the check in her pocket. "Or maybe Anna and I will be roommates!" Ha. It would be highly amusing to invite Anna over to talk about it while he was in class. She imagined the look on Boone's face when he saw her. Yes, that would make her day just a little.


	10. Shannon and Boone Plus Vodka

**Chapter 11 – Shannon and Boone Plus Vodka**

_Enter Anna Delia Van Camp, the da_ughter of a big-time movie producer and his trophy wife, slightly alcoholic, and as slutty as they come. Anna wore a 32 DD and made sure everyone was aware of this fact. She also had a tiny waist, and legs about a mile long. It was a "no duh" that she was a swimsuit model, but her personality was a little different than most. Fluent in swear words, as rich as Oprah, it was a wonder that she had ever gone out with someone as naïve as Boone.

"Hey, you bitch!" She exclaimed upon arrival. "I haven't seen you in such a fucking long time!"

"I know! So, you know that money I told you about? That I got from Boone?" Shannon replied to her best friend.

"Yeah, you little criminal, you conned it out of him," Anna said, openly searching through Boone's drawers.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for your brother's porn magazines, dumbass." She said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I honestly don't think he has any."

"Well, he's not as innocent and virginal as he pretends to be," noted Anna offhandedly. Shannon raised her eyebrows. "Oh, quit pretending you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm not stupid, Shan."

"What do you mean?"

"Jesus Christ, do I really have to spell it out for you? Sometimes you're as stupid as your brother. It's not like you guys haven't fucked before!"

"_That's not_ – "

"Shut the fuck up," Anna said good-naturedly. "I think it's hot. If you ever want to – "

"Anna? Shut up."

"Who was on top?"

"It depends – depended."

"Uh huh," said Anna. "Oh! Success! Not as cute as we thought, huh?"

"You found some?"

"Oh, fuck that. It's just the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. _Wimpy_."

"Weren't you in that?"

"Almost."

"See, I told you so! He's just a pretty little good boy like I said."

"Pretty little good boys don't fuck their sister."

"Right." Said Shannon. "So, I was wondering, if, with my new money, I could rent a house and we could be roomies."

"Oh," said Anna, "Sounds cool. I live in this place near a bunch of old people, and I swear, this old guy was like, checking me out, and… EW. So yeah, sure."

"So –"

"God, is there _anything_ he's hiding from us?" Anna pulled out a wedding magazine and threw it aside disgustedly. "One of mommy's magazines! You know why he doesn't have any porn, right?"

"Um."

"Because he only has eyes for –"

"Shannon?" Said Boone's voice suddenly from outside the door. "You there?"

"Yeah!" She called back.

"Okay, I have to work, so can you stay out of the way?"

"Um… _whatever_." She rolled her eyes, just as Boone walked in with… Emily?

"Oh my _god_," she was saying, "I can't believe we still have to do this project together! I don't even want to, we are so –"

"Anna?" Said Boone incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh come on, Boone. That's no way to greet the girl you deflowered!" Ha. Leave it to Anna to say something audacious. Emily's eyes widened.

"Oh please," Boone retorted, "You were _never_ a virgin. You were born this way."

"Fine. It's the boy _I _deflowered. Who's this pretty little thing?" _Pretty little thing? _

"This is – "

"I'm Emily, and I'm the _ex_ because I just –"

"That's great, then we can be exes together!"

"Um," said Emily standoffishly. "Do you know about… about _them_?" She looked at Shannon.

"I can still hear you," said Shannon loudly.

"Yeah, wouldn't they have such _hot_ kids?" Said Anna.

"Oh my god, oh my god!" Emily squealed. "They'd probably have webbed feet! Ew!" But Emily was ignored.

"Boone, you okay?" Anna smirked, approaching him and standing extremely close to him, as if she was going to kiss him. He did _not_ look okay, he had the look of a scared rabbit, and his face was bright red. "You're blushing," she whispered, putting her hand on his cheek. He slapped it away.

"Yeah, I'm fine…" He paused. "Shannon! Why did you – you know I – "

"Can't stand being in a room where you've fucked everyone in it?" Shannon finished. "Is it because you feel too hor – "

"Should I just do the report by myself?" Emily piped up nervously.

"No, it's fine. Okay, Anna and Shannon, this is my house, and I'm going to _make _you leave now! Okay?"

"I don't know," said Shannon slowly, "No, that's okay, and I don't think I will."

"No, actually, Shannon, maybe we should go, and we can go to the beach, get some guys, party all night long…" Boone looked extremely flustered; he did not want Shannon with other guys.

"Okay! Fine, stay!"

"Yeah, okay, Boone? I think I'll just write the Intro and the background? You can do the procedures and the conclusion, and we'll see each other in class on Thursday? I'm just, not comfortable here!" Emily squeaked.

"Um… okay?" said Boone. Emily walked towards the door.

"Hey, Emily?" Said Anna as she left. "When you leave, Boone and Shannon are going to do it, and I'm going to _watch_." Emily broke into a run and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

After she left, Anna and Shannon broke into a silent fit of laughter. Boone glared at them, but then he was amused by Shannon's giggles, and a smile started tugging at the corners of his lips, and he was laughing too.

Eventually, their laughter subsided, and Anna exclaimed, "So! Who's up for a party tonight?"

"Oh god," Boone groaned.

"Don't be such a tight ass, Boone, let's go!" Whined Shannon.

"I have to study!"

"You know, Boone, I was walking down the street, and I heard some guy from your school talking about you, and you know what he said? He said, 'Boone Carlyle is such a complete and utter dork! I think he's _gay_."

"Well, I guess we could –"

"Wait," said Anna, "I have a better idea. Let's …" she pulled a huge bottle of vodka out of her Chanel purse. "Play Ultimate Truth or Dare!"

"Oh my _god_," Groaned Boone. "How old are we?"

"But wait," said Anna, "It's with drinks. Each time you answer a question, you take a –" She unscrewed the cap of the bottle, "Take a big ol' swig –" She drank a long sip of the stuff, and sighed deeply after swallowing it, "From the bottle."

Boone looked at her. "No. I am not doing that."

* * *

The fan whirred around and around on the ceiling. It was going so fast and so much, Shannon suddenly felt the urge to throw up. She looked around and noticed that she was lying spread-eagled on a bed, all sticky and hot under that blankets, and her head… _owwww…._

"Shit," she sighed, burying her head into… _Boone_?

"Ouch! Stop it!" He groaned.

"Don't talk so _louuuuud_, my head hurts!"

"What did we do?" He asked.

"Where am I?"

"What about our rule?"

"Where'd Anna go?"

"Anna was here?" Shannon tried to crawl out of bed, but fell over as she reached for the lamp. "My head hurts so fucking much!"

"This is the worst hangover I've ever had." He said. "The fan is like… _moving_." He tried to stand up, also, and succeeded, but wobbled a bit, and walked into the kitchen slowly. Shannon fell back into bed and lay there.

"Anna, I fucking HATE you!" Boone called.

"Shut up!" Yelled Shannon, "My head!"

"You shu' up!"

"I think Jesus hates me!" She wailed. _Well, wasn't she politically correct_?

"Jesus _loves_ you Shannon." Shannon peeled herself from the bed and walked into the kitchen, sitting down.

"How are my little lovebirds?" Exclaimed a voice. It was Anna, looking fully refreshed and wearing a very bright blue shirt.

"Oh crap," said Boone. "Your shirt… it _hurts_."

"Hey, don't worry! I've got enchiladas and coffee and some eggs for you guys!"

"I think I'm going to throw up."

"I'm going to go take a piss," said Anna.

As she left, Boone stepped up behind Shannon, who was washing her face and the sink, and breathed down her neck, "We needa kill Anna." Shannon meekly moved her hand, trying to push him away, and failing miserably.

"What am I wearing? I can't look down."

"You're wearing a spandex jumpsuit."

"Really?"

"No."

"Oh." She said. "What am I wearing then?"

"I can't look down." He responded. "But you have a huge hickey on your neck."

"Anna, I fucking HATE YOU!" Shannon screamed.

"Shannon! What the _fuck _are you trying to murder me?" He moved away from her.

"I'm so sorry!" She cried. Anna arrived into the kitchen again, holding some aspirin and two coffees.

"Here," She said, giving them each four aspirin and a coffee.

"Oh! Finally!" He groaned.

"So…" Said Shannon, "What exactly happened last night?" Anna smiled mischievously.

"Why don't you kids sit down for that fun little story?" They dragged themselves to the table, sitting down next to each other.

"So?" Said Boone apprehensively.

"It all started when I dared you to kiss Shannon, but the thing is, I couldn't get you to stop." Shannon buried her head in her hands. "You were like, full-on, on top of each other, _grinding_, salivating rather profusely, like –" Boone moaned in agony. "It's okay, though, it was like, really hot, high-quality porn."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

She didn't respond. "Anyway, you had drunk, like, half the bottle at this point, and you were saying all this weird stuff – like –"

"Do I want to hear this?"

"No _fucking_ way. You were like unaware of my presence, like _'I love you, oh my god, I want to fuck you! I fucking love you!_'" Shannon snorted. "And Shannon, you were like, asking him all these perverted… favors? It was so fucking hilarious! You were tell him to like, kiss your boobs, and like _'I love you! Jesus Fuck, I love you!'_ And you were slurring so badly! You two cannot hold your liquor at ALL. And then you were like, 'Can I –' Anna started laughing so hard she could barely talk. You were like, 'Can I give you bj? And then I was like, okay, get a _fucking room_ already, so I was like, telling you that, and then you were like _'Boone, we have to get a…"_ and then he tried to stand up and he couldn't, because, you know, and then he fell over and was all, _"A what?"_ And then, somehow, you pushed him up again the wall and were all over each other again, but somehow you got in his room, and sort of took the vodka with you." She said weakly. There was a stunned silence for a moment, and then…

"You let us take the vodka?"

"We didn't use a co –"

"We fucked?"

"How – "

"But the vodka bottle is _empty now_!"

"Damn you!"

"Jesus Chri –"

"Shut up!" Yelled Anna, and Shannon and Boone cringed.

"Headache…" he sighed.

"I'm not finished! Then I heard all these noises from the bedroom, and I think you definitely did a bl –"

"Do I have to hear this?" Shannon asked.

Anna smirked. "Look at Boone, he's like, _'Damn! I don't remember!'_"

"I am NOT!"

"What do you remember?"

"Something about boobs… and kissing… and…that's it. Shannon, what about you?"

"I dunno…"

"Yeah you do…"

"Okay fine! I remember you uh, sucking my, uh…" She gestured to her chest, "A lot."

"You guys should really consider a career in porn movies."

"Anna, get out."

"Oh, come on."

"Fine. But you so owe us." Shannon nodded.

"Are you an _'us'_ now?"

"No!" They answered in unison.

"We're going to stop…"

"Stop what? Fucking? Kissing? _Boob su_ – "

"Oh my god! Shut up! Yes, everything!"

"Why the hell would you do that? You two are _fucking adorable_!"

"Well this little thing I like to call 'incest' for starters." Said Shannon.

"So… move to Tennessee! And it's not really real incest!"

"And we hate each other."

"Bullshit. You're getting along now."

"All we ever do it fight!"

"And fuck," noted Anna.

"But we're going to stop."

"Yeah."

"Starting now."

"Boone, you've got lipstick on your neck," noted Anna. Awkward silence.

"So… Anna, about that buying a house thing?" Shannon said.

"Let's do it."

"Can we, you know, refrain from saying anything with a double meaning related to sex right now?" Said Boone.

"You're right," Anna said, smirking. "_Screw sex_."

"I'm going back to bed." Said Shannon, falling into the bedroom and plopping onto the bed. His bed. Oops. _Well, she was just sleeping there!_

"Uh, Shan? I guess I'll call you later?" Anna said, getting ready to leave.

"Don't ever talk to me again, I hate you," she mumbled to the pillow. "And Anna? With friends like these…?"

"Hey Shannon? With brothers like these, who needs boyfriends?"

"Shut up."

"I love you like a sister, Shannon."

"I'm not even going to _respond to that_!"


	11. Anna

**Chapter 12- Anna**

"Hey Anna?" Said Shannon pointedly one morning as she sat down at their kitchen table as she cut a grapefruit into miniscule pieces.

"Yeah, I know, I had the volume of the TV too loud two nights ago, but I swear it won't happen again!" Anna was opening a cupboard, standing in front of the sink, her terry bathrobe dragging on the floor over her least sexy pair of pajamas.

"Well, it's not –"

"Or was it that I forgot to take out the trash? Or left the phone somewhere?"

"It's – "

"I'm_ sorry_!" Cried Anna. "I just can't believe they chose that other stupid model over me! I'm doing everything wrong now. And I got fuckin' fat!"

"Anna –"

"No, I know, you want to leave, it's fine, I know I'm using all the cash to buy Ben and Jerry's and Vodka! I'm sorry!" Anna sat down. "I'm just so tired of this… why don't any of them want me for me?"

"What did this guy do?" Asked Shannon. "Bobby? Ben?"

"I don't even know his name, I'm always drunk and horrible and fucking stupid!" She said, a hitch in her voice.

"Anna –"

"No, it's fine, you should go if you want, I don't want to mess you up just because you feel sorry for me. If you want, you can go."

"Um." Shannon had indeed been planning to tell Anna that she was going to leave.

"_Oh my God_!" Wailed Anna, pounding her fists on the table. "You're so lucky! You've got someone right in front of you who loves you so fucking much, and all I get is…" She rolled her eyes, "_Booby_ or whatever his name is! He didn't even wait until the morning, but he left right after! _Right – fucking – after_!" She sniffed. "You know who was really good at making me feel better when I was in one of these moods?"

"Who?" Said Shannon patiently.

"Your brother. Boone,"

"Well, that's because he has to deal with _me_."

Anna smiled wanly. "Can you call him for me?"

"_Why_? He's completely mortified of you." Anna burst into tears.

"There goes my _eyeliner_ and my _mascara_, and my _shame_!"

"You're being overly dramatic."

"You're not helping, Shannon!" She hiccupped.

"I'll call Boone and see if he can cheer you up." Sighed Shannon.

"Okay." She frowned. "Don't worry, I won't hook up with your brother/boyfriend again. I know how much you_ despised_ that, I could see right through your whole '_Oops, my skirt just went up, what do you know, Boone and Anna are here_' act or yours."

Shannon pursed her lips. "Do you want his number or not, Anna?"

"Yes. But I want you to call and tell him that your hormonal best friend is being insane and she needs him to cheer her up."

"Fine." Shannon dialed his number on the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi," said Boone's voice. Shannon felt a little bit uncomfortable all of the sudden. Although she had seen him under their new rule and they had stayed true to it, it was still pretty awkward.

"Um. Hey, Shannon."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at home."

"Why are you at home? I thought you were at your apartment."

"I felt like coming home. So, what's up?"

"Well, I don't really know how to say this, but Anna is…" Shannon walked into the bedroom and shut the door. "Anna's not really doing so good, and…"

"Well maybe you should do something about it,"

"I am doing something about it, I'm calling you."

"But that's not – "

"Shut up. She's like, all emotional, and feeling bad about herself."

"Anna? Like, our Anna? Feeling bad about herself?"

"Yeah, she's crying all the time and stuff. She gained, like, 15 pounds."

"Maybe she's hiding something from you."

"I thought about that, maybe she's_ pregnant_ or something?"

"I am NOT pregnant!" Shouted Anna from the other side of the door. "I checked already! I'm not as stupid as you all… damn it, damn it!"

"Hang on," Shannon said, and then called to Anna, "What's wrong now?"

"I stubbed my toe on the fucking door!"

"Then just get a friggin' Band-Aid!" She said to Anna. Boone?" She said to the phone.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to give you the pleasure of talking to Anna now."

"I'm just waiting with baited breath here." Shannon opened the door and handed the phone to Anna. She stood near the other side of the door, grabbed the other phone, and eavesdropped on what they were saying. Like it or not, Shannon was feeling just a little bit jealous.

"Hi, Boone." Anna was saying. "Thanks for talking to your schizophrenic ex-girlfriend."

"I didn't come without a fight. So tell me what's up?"

"I'm fat."

"You're not fat. Maybe you gained a couple of pounds because you're upset."

"Maybe. What should I do?"

"Well, why do you feel like that?"

"You sound like a fucking shrink."

"Is that good or bad?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should be a psychiatrist. But not in LA. LA people go to shrinks when their cars break down, you seem more like you're from somewhere more down to earth. But Shannon and I are real LA girls."

"Yeah, I guess you two are." Shannon could hear the smile in his voice, but was careful to be silent so that Anna wouldn't know she was listening.

"Shannon is moving out."

"Oh really? Why?"

"I'm difficult and annoying. I get drunk a lot; wallow in self-pity every morning – hung over and ditched by my latest one-nighter and I complain to her all day long, until I get all... whored up and go to a party, and do the same thing again! I'm such a fucking loser!" She cried.

"Well, maybe you should try to stop drinking. Then you wouldn't regret stuff so much."

"We tried to do that once when we were going out, remember?"

"Yeah."

"It didn't work. When I drank again, I came over to your house, and…" She laughed bitterly. "We had some pretty wild sex that night."

"Yeah..."

"And the next day Shannon wore your _favorite_ dress. I guess that says enough in itself." Shannon winced uncomfortably. Had she been that obvious?

"Um, Anna - " Boone said.

"I'm making you feel uncomfortable. I always do that. Look, I know you're in love with Shannon, but can't you just pretend I'm her for a second and try to help me?" Boone was silent.

"You pretended I was her like, the whole time we were together, _didn't you_?" He was still silent. Anna started crying. "I thought you were the only guy I've ever been with who didn't just want me for sex! I thought you wanted me for me when we were a couple! That's why I called you! You made me feel good about myself, Boone! I was so… I was _really_ in love with you. I know it seems impossible for such a coldhearted bitch like me, but I think you were the only guy I ever loved. I'm serious." Boone was quiet. "I don't anymore, though. _Don't worry_. I'm sure you'll be_ inside_ of your precious little Shannon tonight again." She finished mockingly.

"Anna, I don't think you have a right to - " Shannon couldn't hear this anymore. She hung up and started taking the sheets off her bed, an indifferent expression stubbornly pasted upon her face. Ten minutes later, after she had stuffed most of her things into a variety of boxes, she paused because she had heard Anna screaming.

She was yelling, "_Do you know how badly I wish someone would love me like you love Shannon? Do you_?"

When Shannon went outside of her room to say goodbye to Anna, she found her passed out on the couch, a half-empty bottle of Grey Goose at her side. Jesus Christ. In a sudden urge of hospitality, Shannon threw out the bottle, washed Anna's face, which was covered in spit, and half-dragged, half-carried her into her room. Dysfunctional as they may be, Boone and Anna were her family and that was how it was going to be from now on. But looking back, Shannon realized that that was how it had always been.


	12. More Late Night Secrets

**Chapter 12 – More Late Night Secrets**

Being back at her stepmother's house was an off experience for Shannon. At Anna's, each meal presented a new array of loud music, men, and alcohol, but here, dinner was subdued, restrained, all coiffed hair and classical music wafting from the stereo and Boone's mutterings of "please" and "thank you".

After dinner one night, Sabrina excused herself with a final whisk of her silver cutlery upon her plate, and Boone awkwardly left Shannon sitting along at the table. She tapped her fingers on the mahogany table in the same rhythm over and over again. _Plick click, Plick, click_. Shannon despised monotony more than mostly anything, and she was very irritated with the chronically immaculate floors of 11 Rochester Way, bored of Malibu and probably of California – the whole friggin' country, basically. But where would she go? What did she want, period? Well, the answer to that was easy – Boone. Shit. But she couldn't have him and that really pissed her off. Maybe she would though, just for tonight. She longed for him to touch her and want her, and she wasn't especially keen on the idea of slipping between the cool sheets in her eerily silent bedroom _again_.

Shannon instinctively started up the stairs and walked into the bathroom. Crap. It was their bathroom – the one that they had had sex in on Valentine's Day. _Pleasant_. He was right though, when he said that their little fling was going to follow them. Hell, it obviously already was! But it was just one last time, she swore it! Shannon approached the mirror and put her blonde hair down so that it was brushing over her shoulders. People were constantly asking her where she had gotten her blonde hair. The answer was – her mother and a really good colorist. Next, she put on another coat of mascara and eyeliner. What was she doing? Was she trying to impress him? No… well, maybe… um, _fuck yes_. But what was wrong with wanting to look good?

Shannon went into her bedroom, which was full of boxes and suitcases. She hadn't unpacked them in the few days she had been home because then it seemed too permanent. She was so getting out of here as soon as possible. She could explore the world, and all that shit. Now where was her friggin' lingerie?

Shannon found Boone an hour later, sitting in the suede recliner in the so-called "family room" that the "family" never spent time in. It was appropriate, she thought, that they never went into said family room, because it's not like they really were a real family. She wasn't connected by blood to any of them, and not connected emotionally to… well, Sabrina anyway. The recliner was, um, reclined, and he was reading some book – she wondered what. Shannon approached him, and before he could even acknowledge her presence, she swung her knees around each side of him in a straddle, and wrapped her arms around his torso, resting her head on his chest. She ran her hands up and down his body, and he was trying extremely hard to ignore her and continue reading – like she was a bully and ignoring her would make her go away. Everyone knew that didn't work, and this wasn't any different. But the prospect of even attempting to ignore her proved impossible once Shannon's hands reached the seam on his jeans.

"_Shannon_," he whispered sharply.

"What are you reading?" She asked lazily, her lips moving against his neck as she spoke.

"I _was_ reading," he answered, "some stupid thing for school. Poetry."

"Does that translate to 'makes no sense whatsoever'?"

"Yeah, whatever. Um… is there a reason why you're on top of me?"

She dodged his question. "I know why you came home this weekend."

"Because I –"

"You knew I would be here. You came home because you wanted to have sex with me. I know that's why."

"Shannon, we had that _rule_?" He stressed.

"But one last time won't make a difference!" Shannon said, as he sighed. "You look hot today," she continued. "Totally fuckable."

"Oh my god," he rolled his eyes.

"The polite response would be 'thank you', actually. And then if you wanted extra points you could comment on how friggin' hot I look, too." He didn't respond. "Well? Do I look hot, today?" She asked, hoisting herself over the cover of his book, grabbing it from his hands and tossing it aside.

"Shannon! That's the school's?"

"_And_?" She said, rolling her eyes.

"My mom is here! Like…"

"Sound asleep, upstairs. I just checked."

"Wow, I'm impressed. You think of everything." He replied sarcastically.

"You're an ass, Boone." Shannon noticed that for some reason, when she insulted him, he started really flirting with her.

"But I'm a 'totally fuckable' ass, right?" Point proved.

"You never told me if I look hot."

"You –" he looked at her. "You look, like… _woah_."

"Very descriptive," she said, and brought her lips at an angle, to his neck, lifting the edge of his polo shirt to reach it. She nibbled at his skin, which was warm to her touch.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm seducing you. But we could always skip that part." She said, pulling her lips from his neck and transferring them to his ear. She sucked at his earlobe. "But I think you enjoy being –" Her tongue escaped from between her lips, and she ran it across his ear, "…_seduced_."

Boone coaxed his lips towards hers, and they met for a moment, and they quickly pulled away, surprised by the heat of each other's mouths. "You have to be, um, quieter than usual," he murmured, "Because my mom's here."

"Are you suggesting that I'm loud?" She asked, and caught his lips in her own again. They each pulled at each other's lips, and she explored his mouth with her tongue. He did the same thing, and wrapped his arms around her too-thin, delicate shoulders.

A few minutes later, he brought his lips down to her shoulder, gently brushing them against her tanned skin. Grasping her warm shoulders in his hands, he kissed her softly, right at the nape of her neck, where neck tapered into shoulder and back. She smiled as his unshaven cheeks rasped against her smooth skin. "That is so sexy," she breathed, removing her already minimal top, a black camisole, and exposed her skimpy undergarments, a barely there red bra. She would have thought that taking off her shirt would have made her cooler, but he found that with each kiss, her skin seared more and more to his touch. Shannon began unbuttoning his shirt, and said, "_Lacoste_", shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "Gotta get rid of it, pretty boy."

Once it had been rid of (pretty boy), he moved his slightly chapped lips up to where her neck met her ear and kissed her earlobe, a long luxurious kiss, and the tip of his tongue sneaking out from between his lips. Then his lips parted and he gently teased her earlobe with his teeth. She gasped in delight, and turned up to meet his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Then her lips were on his, and their bare stomachs were pressed together, as she looked him right into his deep blue eyes, and her tongue snaked out to slowly lick his lower lip. She leaned into him, her spine curving so that she fit against him like a puzzle. He slowly, deliberately parted his lips. Her mouth was slightly open too against his, and her tongue moved slowly against his lips and tongue. The kiss was soft, gentle and slow at first, but then their lips pressed together harder, and it became more passionate, more urgent. She could feel the beat of his heart against her own, quickening with each gasp between kisses.

Suddenly, Shannon pulled away, and Boone murmured a complaint, but then grinned as she tried to unbutton his pants, her hands faltering at his pants zipper. He let her struggle for a second (fucking pervert!) but then he helped her, and shrugged his pants off. "It's not really fair," he muttered, "That you still have pants on." Taking a hint, Shannon removed her Sevens jeans to reveal the tiniest of black satin boy shorts.

"Happy?"

"Extremely." He said. Once again, her tongue slipped into his mouth and she pressed her body against him as he slipped one of his hands between them, moving his fingers so that his thumb was under the seam of her underwear. He stroked her hipbone, and she shivered involuntarily. His other hand moved up her bellybutton to the curves of her chest. He started to unhook her bra, but had some trouble. "New bra?" He gasped.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Your other one's are easier to get off."

"Are you calling me _easy_, Boone?" She asked in mock-insult.

"Never," he said, and finally fixed the offending hook, and she pulled off her bra and lay it on the side of the chair. He sucked in his breath like he always did when she took off her bra, and she leaned down to kiss him again, his lips hungry and anxious against hers. He felt her up again, as she dug her toes into his crotch and felt him stiffen.

"I win," she whispered.

"Bitch." He shook his head, and took her by the shoulders, pulling her into him, so their bodies were flush against each other, slick with sweat and so they could feel the inhales of shallow breaths in each other's lungs. "Shannon?" He asked. "Your breathing okay? Maybe you should… um, calm down."

"Shut the hell up, I'm fine." She answered, pulling desperately at the band of his boxers, as he pulled at the seam of her underpants, removing the last layer of fabric between them. They moved closer to each other, his warmth so close now that she could hardly contain her anticipation. She squealed loudly, and Boone had to cover her mouth with his hand to remind her of Sabrina's proximity.

Then he was inside her. During those few moments she felt like she had forgotten every worry she had in her mind – how wrong this was, how this was (probably) their last time, how Sabrina might hear – it was all gone. Now it was just him with her and her with him and that was all. Groaning slowly, he pulled back. "Oh… my… god…" she sighed. " Oh – _Boone_!" Before she could even breathe, he was back inside, and kissing her lips. How the fuck did he do that? He moved away, but kept kissing her, their tongues against each other once again.

"Can I have you again, Boone Carlyle?" she whispered, seductive.

"Are you serious?" He sighed, his cheeks flushed.

"Yeah. But you should hurry, because… um…" She gestured to his general vicinity.

"Thanks for the anatomy lesson, Shannon, but I think I'm good."

"Oh come on!" Before he could move, she lowered herself onto him so that he was in her again, and then it was all over. Forever. Or so they thought.

"Goodnight," she whispered, kissing him once again, grabbing her clothes, and disappeared into the dark. He didn't dare follow.


	13. The Cycle Continues

**Chapter 13 – The Cycle Continues**

"Shit," was the first thing Shannon said when she awoke the next morning. Her eyes were full of sleep; her hair was so tangled she could sense the layer of frizz surrounding her head, and her muscles felt so fatigued she could hardly untangle her leg from the rumpled sheets at the bottom of her bed.

"Fuck," was the second thing Shannon said when she awoke that morning. What had she done last night again? Oh, right. Boone. Sex. Sex with Boone…. Ah…. Shannon tried to restrain herself from smiling, but a cheesy, delirious smile appeared on her face anyway. Seconds later, it disappeared. This was not a good thing. Not a good thing at all, because now she was going to face him ("and keep yourself from giving him a boner", a pesky voice in her head added) again. But then that stupid smile materialized upon her face again. And she replayed everything in her head, despite her brain's constant pleas of "_Stop, you're being pathetic_."

Shannon finally rolled out of bed, hitting her foot on the bedpost. Which was why _"Damn it_" was the third thing Shannon said that morning. She clumsily threw her sheets onto the bed, and opened her walk-in closet, choosing an eyelet lace tank top and her Lucky jeans. She took off her old, wrinkled band t-shirt that she had put on last night after… _here-comes-the-stupid-smile-_ sleeping with Boone last night, and replaced it with the shirt and proper undergarments (not the red bra). Then she put on her jeans, and walked into the bathroom.

If there was ever a day for Shannon to thank the gods of concealer, today was the day. Thank fucking god for concealer. Because looking in the mirror, Shannon discovered not one, but two (_two!)_ hickeys on her neck, and a significant amount of dark-circles under her sleep-deprived eyes. After slathering on a copious amount of the stuff, she applied blush, eye shadow, mascara, and lip-gloss to her very chapped lips. She brushed her hair and tied it back into a half ponytail.

When Shannon arrived downstairs, she found Sabrina, a bowl of sliced cantaloupe, and Jake waiting to greet her. Unsurprisingly, Sabrina was not waiting to greet Shannon. Shannon gave Jake a few pats on the head, and sat down, taking the pair of tongs at the table and using them to put two pieces of cantaloupe on her plate.

"Rosita's making scrambled eggs," Sabrina said, looking up from her magazine.

"Okay," said Shannon, putting a bit of cantaloupe into her mouth. "Where's… where's Boone?"

"Asleep. I was going to wake him up, but he's been studying so late at school, I thought he deserved to sleep in."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"I was just wondering." Shannon said indifferently.

"So, Shannon, what are your plans for today?"

"I'm taking a trip. I need to plan for it."

"You're planning a trip? To where?" Sabrina asked, surprised.

"I don't know yet. That's why I need to plan. I just want to see the world." And get away from Boone…

"Shannon, when _are_ you going to go to college?"

"I don't know." She said pointedly. But Sabrina had no chance to respond because Boone had just arrived into the kitchen. Shannon picked up her fork and looked at him for a moment, then popped a piece of cantaloupe into her mouth, determinately not looking at him.

"'Morning," he said to them.

"Good morning!" Said Sabrina brightly. Shannon merely nodded, and she noticed the expression in his eyes cloud. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine." He said, stumbling a little.

"Fine." She answered her stepmother unflinchingly.

"What time did you end up getting to sleep? You slept late."

"I don't know." He said, "Not that late."

"Okay. Well, Rosita is making eggs, they should be here any second. I'm going to go to work in a few minutes, what are your plans?"

"Um." He said. "I guess I'll just stay here and study. I'll go back to my apartment tonight, I guess. I'll take Jake."

"Fine." Boone looked at Shannon again. She rolled her eyes at him.

"_What_?" she said emphatically.

"Nothing." He answered, stung. She smirked at him, feeling victorious in her plight to hurt his feelings. "Pass the orange juice?"

"No." She said.

"Shannon – "

"Look, can't you just get it yourself! It's closer to you, anyway! God, you're an idiot!" He frowned, looking confused and miserable, his eyes mournful, just from one little snipe at him. Shannon realized for about the millionth time how much he loved her, how much he wanted her to like him and want him and accept him. Then Shannon realized how much she really loved him.

Maybe that was why, half an hour later, he was leading her into the shower, and two minutes after that they were macking on each other like there was no tomorrow, soaking wet and naked, murmuring, "last time, last time."

Maybe that was also why Shannon found herself arriving in Sydney, Australia a week later. To get as far away from him as she could and to escape how she really felt.

Shannon was surprised at how well her escape worked. On the flight, there had been a very large, burly man who had offered to help her with her bags, and Shannon had happily accepted, somehow knowing that this would probably not be the last time she saw him. After the plane ride, he invited her out to dinner, and she went, and had a fine time. Realizing she didn't have a place to stay, she quickly went to go live with him. Brian was a very effective distraction, and he was more like her bodyguard then her boyfriend. He had changed her, somehow, because he was so… tough. In that year in Australia, Shannon morphed from an apologetic bitch to a merciless bitch. She claimed it was "growing up," but deep down she just knew she was getting mean.

But Shannon adored the fact that Boone had no idea where she was, and was probably pining for her daily, and worried sick about her. But Shannon didn't care – she didn't need him. But she could use him to her own advantage… like, for money.

And unlike Boone, Brian wasn't a wuss. She told him about how Sabrina hadn't given her the money, and asked him to pretend to be abusive. A few well-placed kisses could make him all for the plan. He was, in fact, almost _excited_ about it. Too excited. But she knew that Boone would bring the money, because he was in love with her.

When she called him, she had Brian yell at her in the background, and she yelled back. When she heard Boone's voice on the other line, which sounded so surprised to hear from her, so worried, like he had been sitting by the phone just waiting with baited breath for her to call, Shannon almost chickened out. But Brian's glowering face, staring at her from across the kitchen table convinced her not to. And Shannon knew that she was quite the little actress. But Boone didn't.

"Yeah, hello?" He answered after a few rings, sounding short of breath.

"Boone, it's me." She said, making sure to waver her voice, just like they had planned.

"Shannon?" He said, like he didn't believe it was her. Or was that anger in his voice? Did he not want to hear from her?

"Yeah…" She answered sadly. Boone sensed the sad tone that she was using.

He asked, "What's the matter?" Shannon could hear twinkly sounding music in the background. Damn. Was he at The Bubble, as Shannon liked to call it? That damn country club, where stupid Sabrina had tried to make her take tennis lessons at. Boone played tennis, which Shannon thought was extremely minty of him. Anyway, back to the task at hand. She heard his breath hitch on the other line. Was that a sigh of annoyance, or worry?

"Um, things aren't so good." She said, and at the moment that Boone said "Where are you?" She pointed to Brian, and he started yelling something unintelligible. He was so large, and he actually looked angry, Shannon might have been a tiny bit scared.

Just like she was supposed to, she screamed, "Get out of here, get the hell away from me!" Then she muffled the speaker of the phone on her shirtsleeve so that it made a static noise.

It was working. "Shannon?" He said urgently. "Shannon?"

Brian yelled something like, "Come here, you little _bitch_!" And there were daggers in his eyes as he approached her. He was acting, too, but there was something oddly real about the whole situation.

"Get away from me!" she shrieked, and actual tears came to her eyes as she imagined what it would be like if he were really hitting her. She felt something hard and cold across her face, but when she looked up at Brian, he was just standing there, scowling. She looked at him quizzically, but he just stared back furiously. He was acting… he was acting… but it was too late, Shannon was already sobbing for real.

"Shannon, what's going on?" Boone asked, sounding both confused and worried at the same time. She tried to get a hold of herself, and breathed in deeply, resulting in a loud sob. "Alright, Shannon, just hang on… tell me where you are. I'll come get you," he seemed to decide at that moment.

"Sydney." She said instantly.

"Sydney?" What an idiot, what other Sydney could she be talking about? Brian's fist hit the table with a resounding thud for dramatic effect. She hadn't been expecting it and flinched. He gave a 'What the hell?' look, and Shannon scooted her chair closer to the wall instinctively.

"Australia."

"Oh," he said. "I'll get down there as soon as I can, I swear!" He sounded so serious about this, and Shannon felt a little twinge of guilt.

"Okay," she said weakly. "One second, I'll talk to you in the bathroom." She whispered, as if she were trying to hide from Brian or something.

"Shan?" he said a few seconds later.

"Uh huh," she answered, "I'm h-here."

"Where exactly is this place that you're at?"

"It's, um… do you have a piece of paper?"

"Yeah, hold on a minute. You're okay now?"

"Yeah, I locked the door."

"Okay, can you hold on a second?"

"I guess."

She heard him talking to someone, a girl. She felt another twinge in her stomach, but this one was of jealousy, not of guilt. "I can't do this," he was saying. Was he breaking up with the girl?

"Can't do what?" she heard a rather squeaky voice say back. She didn't hear what he said next, but he did hear a perplexed cry from the girl, and then, Boone saying, "I'm sorry," and then he said something back to Shannon. Shannon wanted to ask why he had broken up with her, when he could have just told her he had to go. But she knew why. It was because he was in love with her, and she _always_ came first.

"Um, I'm at 110 Wellington Place, in Sydney. It's pretty easy to find if you have a - a map."

"Okay. I'll try to get a flight tonight." He sighed.

"Are you going to miss a class or something?"

"I graduated a month ago." He said, sounding a little bitter. "If I had known where you were, maybe you could have come."

"Sorry," she said, and she sobbed a little for dramatic effect.

"So… try to steer clear of him, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

"Um… bye?" He said, as a question.

Because it was a question. They had never really said goodbye, and they never really would.


	14. Minds

**Chapter 14 - Minds**

The entire next day, Shannon was desperately anxious, waiting for him every single second. She tried to look busy to Brian, spending an hour in the shower, taking way too long to put on makeup, and stalling. Then, at about lunchtime, Shannon said, "It's time."

"Okay," he said emotionlessly. "Should I –"

"Just slap me right here," she said, gesturing to her upper left forehead.

"You sure about this?"

"I'm sure… just… just do it, okay?" He lifted his arm, and Shannon awaited the impending slap. He faltered, but then he just crossed her face with his hand, hard, and she winced in pain, tears stinging in her eyes.

"Okay?" he said.

"Yes," she sniffled. Brian went into the other room and flipped on the TV. Just like that. Well, she had asked for it, but still…

"So, when's he coming?"

"I'm not sure. Probably in a few hours."

"Okay, because Bridgett and Greg called, they want us to go out with them tonight. You want to go?"

"Sure," she said absently across the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to get some ice.

"Why are you getting ice?" He asked harshly.

"Um," she said uncertainly. "I don't know?" _Should I not be getting ice for some reason_?

"It'll look worse if you don't put ice on it." He answered, still staring at the rugby game on television.

"Oh…" she said, shutting the door to the refrigerator.

"I just had an idea, Shannon." Brian said suddenly. "How about when your brother comes, we can be just getting ready to leave to go out with Bridgett?" That was a good idea. The next few hours inched by, desperately slow. She was absolutely dying to see him, but even when he did arrive, she couldn't act too happy about it. Correction - she couldn't act happy at all.

"You sure he's going to try to pay me?" He said to her a few minutes before Boone's arrival.

"Positive."

"How do you know?"

"I just _do_."

"Because if he doesn't, this'll be a bloody waste, know that?"

"Yes, Brian, I_ know that_." She said, an edge in her voice.

"What'd I say?" He said, shaking his head in exasperation, and giving her a dirty look. "There's a rental car coming into the driveway. Go into the bedroom!" Shannon went into the dark room and sat on the cold, empty bed, the gnawing guilty feeling in her stomach intensifying. Why was she doing this? But now there was no turning back.

"Yeah?" she heard him saying rudely. Shannon hated just sitting here, doing absolutely nothing and sitting there feeling pathetic. So she went into the connecting bathroom, and put on another layer of lip-gloss.

"I'm looking for Shannon." She heard him say in a faux- tough voice. He sounded so stupid, but so…

"Who are you?" he said brusquely. Shannon began putting an earring into her left ear.

"I'm her brother." Oh, but he was so much more. This was her cue. Shannon stood up and began putting her right earring in. She missed a step when she saw him, looking so worried and confused and pathetic. But still hot.

"Boone?" She said. _Well, who the hell else would it be_?

"What's going on?" Were his first words to her. He'd obviously been expecting a better welcome.

"What are you doing here?" She said, signature bitchy tone evident. Jesus, what had he ever done to deserve this? And yet she kept going.

"Fifteen hours," he said, as Shannon had expected him to. "I just spent fifteen hours on a plane… happy to see you, glad you're here, something like that might work." Even though they got on each other's nerves a lot, his tone sounded more than just annoyed. He sounded… hurt.

"Listen, this isn't exactly the best time." Each word she said was more and more difficult, meaner and more heartless, but her tone did not waver. "Brian and I were just on our way to meet some friends. Why don't you give me a call then?" This was it. Make it or break it. She ran her hands through her hair, pulling it back to reveal her new bruise quickly. It was working. His eyes seemed to flicker twice as she did this. "Please?" She needed him to leave before she hugged him, or kissed him, or worse, started crying in front of him.

"Okay," he said, still looking as if someone was going to jump out of the closet and yell, "April Fool's!" But no one did. "Have fun with your friends." He rolled his eyes, and left. The door swung behind him, and Shannon's heart felt hollow but heavy at the same time. She wasn't this heartless… why did she pretend to be? Why did she have to hurt him so much? Why did he let her do this to him?

"Ready to go?" Asked Brian, nonplussed.

"I guess," she said in a small voice.

"Well, Bridgett is waiting at the theatre, let's go." They left the house, but Shannon didn't think of anyone but Boone, and the guilt, and how much she just wanted to have him forever and ever… but she banished the thoughts from her head and forced herself to become one hundred percent absorbed in the dumb action movie they were taking in. She tried to concentrate on the fact that Brian was flirting with Bridgett, and tried to make it make her angry, but it didn't work. She didn't give a shit. Brian could go fuck her for all she cared, and there was no denying it. After the movie, Brian drove Shannon back to his house, and they rode in silence.

"So, Shannon," said Brian, "Are we going to split this money equally?"

"Yes." She sighed.

"You've been snapping at me all day, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing…" she slid her arm across the plush covering of the seat, digging her nails into the upholstery. When she and Boone had sex, he would always complain about how Shannon's too-long nails dug into his skin in anticipation. But she knew she loved it, the marks were his only proof that they had actually done the deed, and it hadn't just been some perverted dream he had.

"What are you thinking about?" Brian said.

"I was just thinking that," Shannon responded, "I didn't like that you were flirting with Bridgett tonight."

Shannon hadn't slept well in an extremely long time, not since she had been in Boone's arms the last time they had slipped up, the night before she left. She found the touch of Brian's arm to be heavy and uncomfortable – she tossed and turned trying to avoid his unnaturally large hands clenched around her shoulders. Tonight was no different, but his irritating touch was not the only thing keeping her up this time. When she finally fell into a fitful sleep, she dreamt of, who else, Boone, and his intriguing blue eyes, and that look he had in his eyes when he first saw her. He was just so smitten with her – a part of her loved that because it made her feel so much more… wanted, but another part of her wondered what was so special about her, and how anyone could possibly love someone like her so unconditionally. Shannon wondered about this a lot.

The next morning, Shannon awoke in the bed alone, and she knew, somehow, that Brian was probably at the marina, getting ready for his job as a coastguard, and somehow, she also knew that Boone was going to try to pay him soon. She wanted to call him on his cell phone and start screaming at him to stop, it was fake, it was all a scam, but Shannon realized that wouldn't really get her anywhere.

Not that anything she and Boone had done together in the past three years had gotten them anywhere. It had gotten them some serious pleasure, but guilty pleasure, only to be replaced by regret and denial afterwards. It was still worth it, she thought. But was it worth it for him? Was she worth being his weakness, his Achilles heel; was she worth being the one thing that held him back in life? She wasn't worth it and she knew it, and she knew that she didn't deserve him. Not that she would do anything to stop it… because she enjoyed this game they played.

He called, just like she had asked him to, around ten that morning. "Hi," he said, "Want to tell me what's going on?"

_Yes, but I'm not going to._ "Well, Brian got a little rough the other day, and …"

"He hit you?"

"Yeah…" she said quietly.

"God… I can't believe he'd…"

"I would have been nicer to you, but he gets really jealous, even though I told him that you're my – "

"Okay, okay, when should I come?"

"To take me home?"

"Yeah."

"Like, four o'clock?"

Shannon was alone all day long – she dawdled in many time consuming tasks… Daytime Soaps, catching up on the latest magazines, she even did the dishes and the laundry. Funny how the most random things seemed to remind Shannon of him – Boone used to do Shannon's laundry for her, during their affair, and Shannon had found it a little peculiar when she got back from France and tried to do her own laundry, that Boone was the one who knew that her black bra was a delicate, and the silk boy shorts had to be washed in cold, that her hot pink Abercrombie tank top was actually a dark, all that. Shannon had felt like an idiot, after arguing with him that said tank top was a light, and found her favorite white skirt a tinge of pink. But he didn't smirk at her, or give her a look that clearly said, "Yes, you are pathetic." He had just squeezed her hand, smiled that half-smile of his, and bleached the skirt for her. She hadn't worn that skirt since arriving in Australia.

The doorbell rang at 3:07 PM. "You were supposed to come later," she said as she opened the door for him. He didn't respond, just brusquely said, "Do you have any bags? Anything you want to take?" She looked at him, his eyes looking fiery and determined, his hair all messed up like it always was... like it had been when they had made out in the Jacuzzi that summer day before her senior year...

"You should go back," she said, not quite sure what the hell she was talking about. But she needed that money… and Brian wasn't back yet… and how the hell was this going to work... the water had been hot, burning that day, so somehow they ended up skinny-dipping in the freezing cold pool...

"No Shannon, we're getting out of this country." What was with him, suddenly being all high and mighty and condescending, like he _owned_ her or something? She hesitated… how was she going to get the money? "Is there anything you want to bring?" She stalled again... he had kissed her so hard that day, with such passion and fervor and - _shut up, brain_. "What's wrong with you?" Just then, when things couldn't get anymore fucking confusing, Brian walked in with groceries. Groceries? Here she was, in the middle of a friggin' emotional apocalypse, and he had been at the grocery store buying… bananas? The fuck? At least the little trip to Nostalgia City had gone away.

"Aw, look at this." He said in that stupid accent of his, which Shannon could have sworn was fake. What the hell was that supposed to mean? God, she was confused. Boone looked a little intimidated, and bewildered, so naturally, in true idiot fashion, he stepped closer to Shannon and got all in-your-face like he did when he was mad. It used to make her feel all hot and bothered, but now it was just _stupid_.

"Let's go, please. C'mon, we can go." He said in his soothing Captain America voice. _Oh, go save a baby bird._ Brian opened his mouth. Oh shit. _Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it_, she silently pleaded with him, while also trying to keep a straight face for Boone.

"Hey mate, you just don't get it, do you? What's what." Oh, fuck you! He was going to hate her forever! As Shannon saw Boone's facial expression change to a look of pure disbelief, then distort again to a look of rage, she rethought her theory. He would forgive her, right?

"You set me up…" he said, almost as if it were a question. "This whole thing was a set up." He said again when no one attempted to disprove him. Shannon avoided his gaze; unable to look at him, otherwise she feared that she might get another trip to Nostalgia Land... or break down in front of him...

"She's just getting what she's owed." God, Brian, you idiot! Why was he doing this? This stupid little backhanded, "I'm on your side," and then turning around and… _God!_

"What'd you say?" Said Boone, trying to be intimidating, but his pretty little 5 foot 9 self was _not_, by any means, intimidating. Especially to a 700 foot tall guy who weighed like 8 billion tons.

"She told me your mum screwed Shannon over after her daddy died, kept all her father's money for herself. Sweet mum you've got there." God, why? Boone looked _really, really_ pissed. Like, beyond pissed.

"This isn't the first time, is it?" He said, clearly remembering the incident in France, when he had held her and told her how friggin' amazing she was… Shannon couldn't even imagine how he felt. "Oh, you've done this before, you little bitch." His face contorted into one of the most furious looks he had ever given her – it definitely challenged the look he had given her on the elevator that day, but this time, she didn't argue. It was true. He got even more in-your-face, until -

"That's enough." Said Brian, shoving him away. Okay, she didn't really want him to get into this! And Boone hated being touched by people. He always had, ever since her father had slapped him when he was eleven and had forgot to… Shannon brought herself back into the scene, because _holy crap_, he was going to try to hit back. That idiot! Brian was like 700 feet tall! Within seconds, Boone was on the ground, and being hit in the face by Brian. Okay, one hit would have been okay, but he was like, in serious beat-up mode. She couldn't let him hurt Boone!

" Brian, get off of him!" She screamed. "Get off of him!" Boone was still struggling under his touch. "Get off!" He wasn't getting off, so before she could even think about it, she pulled him off herself as hard as she could, which was a feet considering that he was 700 feet tall. Boone hoisted himself up with the couch, looking hurt, confused, disoriented, broken… she was sitting on the floor, next to Brian, she realized, which wasn't an especially good representation on how she was feeling right now. On whose side she was on...he hoped he could see how her guilty expression differed from Brian's sneering face. He stood up with an effort, and Shannon couldn't figure out exactly what he was thinking, but he was still pissed off, and he had a bloody nose. Walking towards the door, Boone just sort of stared at her for a second, boring his eyes into her, _How could you?_ It was worse than anything he could have said, and then he closed the door behind him. He looked like he was willing himself not to look back, but always the weak one, he did.


	15. Hearts

**Chapter 16 – Hearts **

_Rating Reminder : M _

Shannon stared at the screen door, watched it pivot back and forth, slower and slower, until with one resounding bang, it stopped. Brian was talking, but Shannon wasn't paying attention. She didn't know how long she had been sitting on the floor, just looking at the door, but then she heard Brian yell, "Shannon!" right in her ear, forcing her out of her reverie.

"W-what?" she said quietly.

"I can't deal with this!" He roared. "I'm not going to do this, Shannon! I can't condone this kind of behavior!" What. The. Fuck. Was he not going to take the money? Okay, Andy, maybe, but Brian?

"What do you mean?" she said, a hitch in her voice, as she stood up. "W-what?"

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about. You know what I'm talking about, and you're a bitch just like he said you were, you're lucky I stood up for you – I didn't have to do that, you know!" Unlike Boone, when Brian tried to be intimidating, he was.

"I – You – Oh –"

"Can you talk normally, please? You're pissing me off, Shannon, you're supposed to be on my side!"

"You didn't have to beat him up!"

"Did you hear what he said to you?"

"Yes."

"It's disgusting, you know, about you two."

"It's not like that!" She cried in disbelief, "You have no right to say that, you don't even have any _proof_!"

"I have enough, Shannon. We were just using each other anyway."

"Speak for yourself." She said, even though it was true.

"This is over!" He bellowed. "Go pack your stuff,"

"What about the money?"

"Well he said he'd pay me to leave, so that's what we're going to do."

"You – what?"

"Your pretty little plan isn't going to work out this time, yeah?"

She was too stunned to respond, but two hours later she was sitting in the bar at the hotel where Boone was staying, drinking vodka at a counter numbly. She wasn't counting shots – she had probably had somewhere between zero and a hundred, she knew that for sure. She was all alone, it was the image of a stereotype, the epitome of a poor little rich girl alone in the dark. How dramatic, how _tragic_. All she cared about was Boone and how much she had hurt him and how incredibly much she wanted to fuck him. And her alcohol-addled mind didn't have much logic to try to prove this theory. Even an hour ago, though, she probably subconsciously knew that she would end up here. Maybe that was why she was wearing his favorite top of hers, the halter that provided easy access to her breasts.

_I'm going _up, she thought. Shannon slapped down some money on the counter, and with that headed towards the elevator, punching in floor 15, as he had told her, and waiting the long, lonely wait as the elevator ascended. She tore down the hall, but as she got closer to his room, 1542, she slowed, and hesitated, each step harder and harder to take. It wasn't like they hadn't done this before… but he had never been this angry with her, and she had never felt so guilty. Which didn't fully explain why she was doing this, as if it was some important step in their relationship – she didn't know what he would make of it, he could just think she came there to get a bed for the night. She scoffed – he was so wrong.

But damn! She couldn't believe Brian had taken the money for himself! Shannon was little surprised how little she cared, but then she realized that it wasn't about the money – had it ever been about the money? Oh, she was such a walking contradiction, she didn't have an alibi for anything she did – she was so fucking lost! And no one could figure her out because _she _couldn't even figure herself out… she stopped in front of his door, waiting. To show him that she was prepared to stay, she started to remove her three inch heeled Miu Miu heels, which were beginning to ache anyway, and tried to knock casually. But that was difficult to do when her mind was already groveling with him – _please, please forgive me, please, please touch me…_ but Shannon wasn't going to grovel with Boone – she was still consistent in her insistence of _I'm stronger, I'm stronger_. As she continued to struggle with her shoes, he opened the door, and she stood there rather pathetically.

"What do you want?" He said, sounding tired. Fatigued, from all the effort and emotion he had wasted on her all these years. He had an ice pack up to the area on his cheek where Brian had slugged him, and Shannon had an urge to trace her fingers over the bruise, softly, just to feel the warmth of his skin against her hand. But there was no warmth in his voice. She stepped closer to him, but not having enough courage to look him in the eye, stared at the lush carpet of the room.

"Brian took the money," she said in explanation of her presence. "He's gone." She practically pleaded. He wasn't buying it, so she turned to him and lightly took his arm, tickling him with her touch, but to her surprise, he pulled away – reluctantly but firmly. He had _never, ever_ refused her touch before. Never. She stayed in her place and put her shoes on the chair as he walked away from her. Smirking, he noted,

"So the player got played. It's poetic, don't you think?" Oh, he was going to put up a front, was he? Going to make this hard! She followed him, standing closer to him, it made her feel more powerful, more like she was in charge – she was the vixen, and he was the waif, (or maybe she was both?)and she was sure as hell going to keep it that way! Especially now, when she needed her title and influence the most.

"I knew you'd bring the money, I _knew _you would!" She cried, slurring her words a little thanks to the vodka. She was standing right over him now, as he pretended to busy himself with a suitcase, but she knew that he was feeling tense thanks to her vicinity to him.

"_You're_ drunk," he said, disguising his anxiety with a half-laugh as he concentrated further on said suitcase. She leaned over him, brushing against his back so that it was hard for him to stand up to her.

"You wanna know _why_?" She slurred in his ear, her breath catching, breathing tiny baby's breaths – the ones she knew he couldn't resist.

He turned around, bringing himself up to his full height, which wasn't much different than hers, and quipped, "I guess it doesn't matter, does it? Because you're going to tell me." No sooner had the words escaped his lips, Shannon blurted out,

"Because you're in love with me." The words seemed to echo in the room – everything seemed new and distant now that she had put these words on the plate, straightforward, so that there was no getting around it. She wasn't just picking at it now; she was devouring it, binging on accusations and bare, naked words, his deepest secret out in the open for everyone to see. _You're in love with me_.

He was caught off guard. It wasn't like it was such a big deal, the fact that they had shared a bed numerous times made these feelings rather obvious, but somehow, this was different. It wasn't like they hadn't ever been in a room alone together, like they hadn't experienced tension between each other – but it hadn't been acknowledged before, not like this. All he could sputter was, "What?" She was already winning, she was clobbering him in their little game – he might as well just forfeit now.

"You brought the money because you're in love with me." That was Shannon – no apologies, no pleads of forgiveness… she always turned it around on someone else, and accusations worked better for her than "sorry." "Sorry" was so weak, so amateur, and just so generic. That was one thing that was similar about the way Boone and Shannon operated. He wasn't apologizing either; he was turning it around, just like she had to him. He gulped, shaking his head, before thinking of something to retort back, but she had already checked his king. He was cornered on the board, and there was some satisfaction in knowing that she had gotten him there.

"You show up here, plastered…"As if his words meant anything. She stepped a fraction of an inch closer – someone else wouldn't have noticed, but she knew he did. Every step she took, everything she did, was just another proof of his weakness.

"You've always been in love with me." Something flickered in his eyes, and his confusion, his complete lack of knowing what to do or say seemed to morph into anger – he was going to point the finger right back at her, but nothing he said could hit home as much as what she had said. She didn't know what had triggered his sudden change of emotion, and she longed she had enough courage to ask him what he was thinking. Even though it seemed brave, she was a coward doing this, coming here, when all she wanted to do was love him without being afraid. She didn't want to seduce him, but it seemed to be coming out that way.

"You've always been a self-centered little bitch, but now you're delusional." _Delusional?_ When Shannon thought of the word delusional, she thought of herself in a room full of mirrors - those mirrors that distort your view and make you look fat or tall or stubby, make you lose yourself and where you are going, but Shannon knew exactly where she was going with this – and she was telling the truth. She was just leaving out the part about her feelings. He _had _loved her forever, since the first moment he had seen her, and she had always known it. She closed her eyes for a moment, summoning the guts to say so.

"I've always known it." He shook his head, like she wasn't the girl he had fucked dozens of times, like she wasn't the girl he was madly in love with, did everything for. Now she was just the girl who had beguiled him and nothing else. Could he truly be that shallow? Truly think she was doing this just to break his ego further?

"You're sick." He said. She hated the way he was putting up a front, like people were watching, a juvenile high school clique was their audience, whispering and snickering about how disgusting they were – this had nothing to do with the fact that they were sort-of siblings, because they were behind closed doors, and no one knew what happened there.

She leaned in, but knew he wouldn't respond to her lips, not yet, and whispered, "No." She was many things – but sick was not one of them." Boone.." She touched his shoulder, pulling herself closer, and her lips brushed across his chin, so close she wasn't sure if she was touching his skin or merely hovering above it, and rested her cheek against his for a moment, such a fleeting second he didn't have a chance to pull back. Not that he would have anyway, she was like chocolate to someone on a diet – bad, but impossible to resist. "It's okay," she whimpered. And she could feel his eyelashes flutter down, his eyes were closed, like he was trying to picture someone else there, and if he closed his eyes, it wouldn't be his sister there. But she could tell his mind was spinning, screaming, _Shannon, Shannon, Shannon_.

"_Stop_…" he pleaded. She had stood in this position to him before, but there was something arid and eerie about this room, in all its darkness and grandeur.

"It's okay," she mouthed, and without even taking a break to breathe, closed her lips over his earlobe, pulling at it and licking it without asking questions. She removed her lips just millimeters away, and closed her mouth over his earlobe again. His ear was burning and frigid at the same time, funny how even his ear conveyed his feelings perfectly. She gently but firmly teased his earlobe with her teeth – her perfect, white teeth, her lip-gloss leaving a shiny residue on the cartilage of his ear. He was closing his eyes, and opening them, fighting with himself, but as her right arm tightened against his shoulder, it was obvious he had finally made the decision to forfeit…his chin was prodding at hers, and she kissed his ear once more, then touching his cheekbone, the dimple between his lip and his cheek, and he moved his head the most miniscule amount, so that her lips became victorious in their plight.

Their chins, their lips, their noses were touching, so close that you could barely make out where her flawless features ended and his equally pristine ones began. Except for the gap between their lips, waiting to be filled, each daring the other to seal the empty space. She bent down just an inch or two so that her top and bottom lip touched his top lip the tiniest bit, and they both seemed to pull back in unison, then repeating the cycle, except this time he started it. She brought her hands lower, around his waist, over his hips, pressing into the top button of his jeans, and she hoisted herself up a little bit, really challenging him to kiss her harder, but it was her who ended up using more passion, more effort, as he just caught her lips in his again, responding but not making an effort to go further.

Finally, after her fingers had tested him to satisfaction and she had felt his erection, he leaned forward a little, opening his mouth and reaching his tongue just between her teeth, but it wasn't enough. She brought her hands back up his body, quickly, and rested them around his neck, oddly chaste compared to where they had just been. But what she was doing to him now was far worse, her hands mussing up his hair, jamming her tongue down his throat, hoisting herself up so her feet were barely touching the ground anymore, and wrapped around his ankles, and he had no choice but to respond further. It was like they had never tasted each other's mouths before, there was something about this that made it seem like it was the first time. Then she released her feet from around his ankles, and lodged her fingers into the collar of his shirt, tugging at it and running her fingers against the hairs on the back of his neck, and he was kissing her more aggressively now – good, this was the way she liked him best, and after each breath between kisses he kissed with more intensity until she was barely fighting anymore, and she pulled back his collar, exposing merely a centimeter of extra skin, and was surprised at how much of a difference it seemed to make. He wasn't shy now – his tongue was pressed up to hers with so much pressure she could barely breathe, and so that she wasn't sure if he had pushed her onto the bed or if she had pulled him. It seemed like the only time that they agreed with each other was when they were making out.

She kept one of her arms around his neck, another at his waste, prodding and teasing his skin through his shirt, and they organized themselves, and they were silently fighting over who was going to be on top. She let him – she thought she at least owed it to him. The hand that had been around his neck strayed, over his back, and he brought his arms up higher so that they were getting closer and closer to the next step, and she tugged at his shirt in anticipation, digging her nails into the area of midriff she had exposed. She desperately wanted him to go further, and the hand that had strayed ran down his arm, sending shivers through both of their bodies, and she pressed his arm down – could she be more obvious? And the power struggle had ended; he was on top, and made it clear that he was going to stay there by hoisting himself over her, continuing to kiss her with ferocity.

She brought both her hands to the lapel of his shirt again, running her fingers down to the nape of his neck and unbuttoning the first button, without even looking down or pausing to pull her lips back from his. She knew this shirt, she had helped him dispense of it before, she had told him that she liked it before – and she wondered if he had, like her, worn the clothes he was wearing for a reason. Now, however, the buttons felt slippery and difficult to pry from the other side of his shirt… even his goddamn shirt knew this was wrong, that this time it was different. But the shirt was more cautious then both Shannon or Boone and there was no denying the fact that they weren't going to let a stupid thing like an uncooperative shirt, or the fact that she had just conned him out of half a million dollars, or the fact that they were sort of related stop them.

Second button and he moved his hands to the seam of her shirt, hooking his fingers into the space between her underwear, which rested low on her hips. Third button and he was moving his hands up to her waist, massaging the concave indent of her waist. Fourth button and he was gasping as she undid the top button of his jeans. By the fifth button, he was untying the minimal straps of her halter-top, working it up over her head, and by the sixth, they he was stuffing his hands up her bra, feeling and groping and yearning and regretting. On the seventh button, he was unhooking her bra, his fingers lingering on the flawless skin of her back, and then they were both shirtless. There was nothing there to protect them from the ridicule of the other, and she traced her fingers over the waistband of his boxers tantalizingly. Her fingers lingered at the fly of his jeans, just for effect, as she unzipped them in a flurry, and he pulled away to shrug them off.

As he did so, she started to dispense of her own skirt, and flipped him over so that she was on top of him. She was _teasing_ as she tickled her fingers down his stomach, _enticing_ as she felt underneath his boxers as opposed to just taking them off, and _cruel_ as she slid herself down his body and rested her fingernails on his upper thighs. And she was _Satan_ when she touched her tongue to the tip, ignoring his pleas of "stop."

She paused as a tumultuous sigh escaped his mouth, and then opened her lips, encompassing him. She pressed into his thighs, her nails leaving imprints in the skin, and pulled at it until, try as he might, he couldn't control the reluctant noises coming from his mouth anymore. "Jesus," he was saying in bliss, forgetting that she had just tricked him, how wrong this was, as his eyes rolled back. It wasn't enough. She sucked hard, with as much force as she possibly could, until she was practically gagging. With anyone else this would be disgusting, she was trying too hard, but this was most likely to buy his forgiveness. This was Boone, so it was the fucking sexiest thing she had ever done. He was still trying to hide a moan, but it came, loud and unrestrained as she was almost choking, her lips swollen and drenched in spit. When she could barely even breathe, she pulled back, cautious and innocent in comparison to what she had just been doing.

He was on top of her again, and he captured her bottom lip in his, nibbling slowly, and rotated his hand on her bare back. He was sliding his tongue across her collarbone, kissing her cleavage until she couldn't take the anticipation anymore and they were fervid, and their tongues explored each other's mouths wildly. He ran his hand across her chest again, and then he moved up so that he was directly over her, waiting for a moment before he came down.

He came down, his hips gyrating against hers, and she pressed up on him as hard as she could as he thrust himself in and out of her. He did this for longer than he usually did – or maybe for some reason it just felt that way this time. She was trying to be strong, trying to keep herself as emotionless as possible, but she found herself begging, groveling with him, her words a jumble of _please_, _Boone,_ and _oh 's_. He heaved himself into her again and she bucked him, with as much intensity as she could manage, and each time he entered it was harder, deeper – it felt so good and it hurt so much, and they both had tears in their eyes, unable to keep track of the volume or amount of noises that came out of their mouths. All she knew was that there was no silence in the air, reminding them of their sins. Their moans and groans were insatiable, unstoppable, and she couldn't even keep track of when her orgasms started and stopped they were coming so rapidly. This wasn't sweet, this wasn't "making love," this was selfish, quick, and tough. This was fucking and that is what Shannon and Boone did.

The tears were streaming down her face now as he got inside of her again, and she was pleading with him, but before she could even hiss out the word "_deeper_," he was, so vehement that the aching in her stomach would not subside. She saw his face, flushed and in agony, as he tried to go again in the darkness of the room. He scrunched up his face, panting as he willed himself to go one more time. There were tears in his eyes too, he was so worn out, emotionally and physically, and suddenly Shannon felt a horrible feeling of guilt shoot through her stomach as she watched him struggling. "It's _okay_," she whispered. "You don't have to." But he did, and she collided with him in such persistence that she bit his lip while kissing him. She tasted blood in her mouth, _his blood_, and the combination of that and another mind-blowing orgasm is what told her, _it's time to stop_. He removed himself from her, and she turned over, bringing the sweaty sheets around her, and tears rushed down her face, different tears, and shesobbed until she couldn't breathe. She could hear his breath, slow and troubled but constant from the other side of the bed, but restlessness hung over her as heavy as the guilt from what they had just done.


	16. Just Another Average Morning

**Chapter 16 – Just Another Average Morning**

She didn't know what time it was when she realized how cold she felt. She opened her eyes, and all she could see was the subtle silhouette of his body, lying as far away from her as possible. She couldn't stand this, just lying here, naked and exposed, with slight symptoms of a hangover just beginning to make themselves known. She crawled out of the bed, and made up her side of it, and slipped on her clothes from last night. She would change them as soon as he woke up and could turn on a light to find her other clothes. Shannon tiptoed into the bathroom, turned on the fluorescent lights, which distorted her view even further, and before she could even tell herself not to, there were tears in her eyes, running down her face, choking her up, until she was sobbing again, just like last night. She didn't know how much she had cried, but she could feel her face wet and slimy, her hands moist, and her clothes contained the light odor of his Dove soap, and she wanted it to just go away. Afraid she was being too loud, Shannon willed herself to stop crying, and wiped her eyes, looking at the mirror, thinking, _this will be our little secret_, and forced an indifferent expression on her face.

As she walked back into the room, the lights were still off, and she could barely see a thing, except his outline, sitting on one of the random sitting places in the affected hotel room, and she noticed that he hadn't had the sense to put his shirt back on. He moved his head slightly to acknowledge her presence, and she hoped that he hadn't heard her crying. He had though. She could tell by the look on his face. She sunk into the chair next to the bed, and even though the chair was quite soft, she felt extremely uncomfortable in it. The morning after had never been so bad. Now that he knew that she had taken advantage of him. But it hadn't even been the money thing – it had started long before that, in their earlier years, the first time she had dared him to kiss her in 9th grade, she had been tempting him and tricking him ever since. She couldn't take the pain anymore, and he had long ago reached breaking point. Oh, they were seriously going to need to stop this time… _once they got back to LA_.

"Boone?" She said quietly, surprised at how much his name cut into the silent air.

"What?" He said resentfully. He didn't want to talk to her; he didn't want to have anything to do with her.

"When we get back to LA," she said, and turned on the light. The sound of the switch seemed to echo in the room. It was just a light switch, why did it insist on being so damn dramatic? The brightness of the light seemed to make it all more obvious. Even the bed, made messily between them, seemed to just scream guilt. The way it sat there, innocently, made Shannon want to kick it until feathers started to come out of the pillows.

She was _all over_ him. His hair was messed up from where she had ran her fingers through it anxiously, and she could see scrapes on his lower back from where she had dug her fingernails into his back, and there was a hickey on his neck from where she had kissed him too hard. And that wasn't even his face. His face, the expression, made Shannon feel, if it was possible, even guiltier that she had before. _I am so fucking sorry_, she longed to say. But she didn't. "You should just tell your mom that," She started out gently, but then somehow her tone became snobby and bitchy again, even though she had no right to be mad at him, "you rescued me again, just like you always do, and… then we can just go back."

"To what?" he said, echoing what Shannon had been thinking. Yeah, to what? To what it was like before Sydney, or to what it was like before everything, before the late night rendezvous?

"To what it was," she said in a patient voice, like she was talking to a kindergartener about what to bring to school. She was being purposely vague, because honestly, she didn't really know what it was going to go back to either.

"Like it's all up to you," he said listlessly. What did that mean? What was he going to change?

She looked at him for a second, and noted a tiny bit of dried blood on his back where her fingernails had dug into him. Yet another mark that she had been there, and she hadn't quite realized how… _rough_ they had been. "Get dressed." She said in the bitchiest tone she could muster. She closed her eyes, and heard him rustling around in the room, then the sound of the shower running…

"_Good morning, Sydney! Today we'll be having sunny skies_ – " The clock radio thing blasted in Shannon's ear, and she looked up to see Boone, fully clothed and with wet hair, holding the thing up to her head. She slapped him across the face.

"What the FUCK?" She screamed, shutting off the radio. "What the hell is your problem?"

"You fell asleep," he said.

"Clearly, dumbass!" Back to the way it was. "You could have, like, tapped me on the shoulder or something!"

"I – " he put down the radio and looked down. " I didn't want to touch you." There was something so vulnerable, so sweet, about the way he said this. But it had to go back.

And just like that she was back to her old bitchy self. "I'm going to take a shower," she said, and stalked off after rummaging quickly through her bags and locating some clothes.

As she showered, she tried to scrub herself of last night – maybe if she used enough soap, repeated her shampoo enough times, it would just disappear. This time hadn't been pleasurable, but it had been painful. But, like everything surrounding their relationship, there was a catch – it had felt really, really good. But even in those last moments when she had wanted him so badly, there had been those lingering thoughts of, "We shouldn't be doing this" itching at the back of their minds. And no matter how hard she scrubbed herself, those lingering thoughts just wouldn't go away.

But God, how she longed for some _proof_. Proof that he really felt like she said he did, proof that it had really happened, and that it was real. It was like cleaning – things always get messier before they clean themselves up. And if they wanted to really erase everything that had happened between them, she needed to prove something to herself. _They weren't back in LA yet_.

She opened the door a crack, where she could see him holding her asthma inhalers and putting them in her bag. She always forgot about her inhalers, so he carried them for her on planes. "Boone," she said, in a tone that somehow managed to be cautious, vulnerable, and suggestive at the same time.

"What?" He said in a voice that managed to be… confused.

"Can you come here for a sec?"

"What do you want?"

"Just come here, okay?" She said impatiently. He walked into the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet seat. He shrugged, as if to ask, "What's going on?" Before she could think about what she was doing, she plopped down in his lap, facing him, and let her towel slip down a bit to reveal more leg and more cleavage, and hissed into his ear, "_Kiss me_."

"What's wrong with you, Shannon?" He practically whispered.

"We're not in LA yet," she whispered, quieter, right into his ear, and shifted herself, still wrapped in only a towel, closer to him so that her stomach was right up against his. Now she was in full-on slut mode, and nothing could stop her now. She placed her lips on his, wiggling a little bit in his lap just to tempt him. She just stayed there, waiting for him to respond. Much to her surprise, he didn't. "Are you mad at me?" She asked, not moving her lips from where they were and scooting forward in his lap so that her hips were against his lower stomach. "You mad at me, Boone?" She pulled back a little bit, and ran her fingers through his wet hair. She put a hand on each side of his neck and slid them under his shirt and over his shoulders, and then back up again. "Hmmm?" she teased, squirming even deeper in his lap.

Maybe she had been wrong all along. She was looking for proof, and maybe she wasn't going to get any this time! She decided to try one more thing. "You hate me," she sighed, pretending like she had given up, making a motion to get out of his lap.

"N-no," he choked out.

"No?" she smiled spitefully, teasingly. "Why don't you prove it to me then?" She shifted once again, rubbing herself deeper into his lap, getting ready for the kiss she knew was about to happen. She waited one second, two seconds, and then her hopes started to go down. That's why she was so taken aback when his lips crushed into hers on the fourth second, and got so into it that he opened his mouth almost immediately and then they were kissing with more tongues that lips, and she unzipped his jeans and slipped her hand between his boxers and his skin as he made no effort to stop her, but then as she was getting closer, she moved her hand back up to around his neck, wiggled some more, and moaned, tantalizingly and exaggeratedly. Right as he started to massage her thighs, she suddenly pulled away, gasping in faux exhaustion. She brought her lips right to his ear again, and whispered so quietly she could barely hear herself, "Boone…" She stuck her tongue out and ran it across the hickey that she had made the previous night. "Tell me you…" she breathed, "Tell me you love me."

"I – " She put her hands around his neck and pulled back a little, swinging herself towards his other ear and also taking this opportunity to squirm in his lap more. "...I... l- love you."

"Who do you love?" She murmured into his ear.

"You." He stuttered, looking confused about what she was trying to do.

"My name…" she hissed.

"I love you, Shannon." He whispered.

"Say my name again," she moaned, grinding up against him. She needed more proof; she needed to get everything out of him while she could.

"Shannon," he said, looking even more perplexed (and a little turned on at the same time).

She smirked. "No Boone, I want you to _moan_ my name," she said, like the insipid heroine of a trashy romance novel. Sometimes she felt like her whole life was just a trashy romance novel.

"You're such a bitch," he said under his breath. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear slowly. "Shannon," he moaned, just like she had told him to. She licked the hickey again, leisurely and enticing.

"Not good enough." Fine. She felt underneath his boxers again, but this time she touched him, and then pressed down harder, and then slid her hand right back up again. She made the first effort to start undoing his shirt. Not that she was going to actually have sex with him again; she was just going to get him really, really fucking horny.

"Shannon… oh god, Shan, stop that," He sighed, as she rubbed her fingers down his pants again. She squeezed down and breathed right into the crook of his neck. "Oh god, I love you," She sucked at his neck eagerly, running her hands up and down his body. "Oh god, Shannon, don't stop…" She took this as a perfect opportunity to do just so. In one quick motion, she leapt off of him. Then, just for effect, she made a motion that made it look like she was getting ready to kneel next to him, and just as he started to look at her in anticipation, she stood up again. Ha.

"Good," she smirked, and pushed him back into the hotel room, slamming the door behind her as he stumbled out, not worrying about the fact that he sort of couldn't walk. Sometimes being a bitch… kicked ass. And now she had proof.

A half an hour later, Boone and Shannon were sitting in the rental car, bickering as usual, and occasionally taking breaks to change the radio station.

"Oh _Boone_," She said in a singsong, annoying voice. "I bet you're pretty upset you left your Mariah Carey CD at home!"

"I do NOT listen to Mariah Carey!" He argued.

"Then what do you listen to?" She asked, putting her feet up on the dashboard of the car. "Classical or Traditional Indian music or something?" She laughed to herself.

"Shannon, get your feet off the car," he said, annoyed, and tried to push her smooth, long legs off the dashboard. She resisted, which resulted in an extremely compromising weird touchy thing that resembled an incredibly odd massage.

"What the hell?" She shook her head, "What are you going to do to me if I don't?"

"I'm trying to drive here," he said.

"You keep avoiding my questions, Boone. Kind of like last night." He looked at her seriously. An awkward silence pervaded the car, so Shannon took her feet off of the dashboard and decided to preoccupy herself with the radio. She turned it up.

"And now, we'll be playing _'Closer'_ by the Nine Inch Nails…" said the guy on the radio. Shannon smirked at how friggin' appropriate the song was, and decided to see how long it would take for him to realize the rather obscene lyrics of the song.

"_I want to fuck you like an ani_ – " Screeched the singer. Boone didn't even change his expression; he just turned the dial and kept his eyes on the road. Crap. No explosive reactions! Or that's what she thought, until she noticed that he was driving on the American side of the road.

"Boone!" She yelled. "You're on the wrong side of the street, you _idiot_!"

"Oh!" He said, "Oh, shit!" He turned around, and luckily there weren't any other cars on the road.

"You're such an –" Then she noticed what song was playing. "Hey, it's that song from _Moulin Rouge_ that you told me you secretly liked, Boone!"

"I never said th – wait, what song?" He said suspiciously. Shannon didn't answer, and instead opened the windows and belted out the lyrics as loud as she could.

"Shannon, stop that!" He said.

"_Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir_!" She screamed, louder. And then of course he ruined all the fun by shutting off the radio. Shannon stopped mid '_Voulez vous'_ and pouted in her seat. "I hate you."

"Well haven't you made that clear?" He said sarcastically. "You made me _voulez vous coucher avec moi_ whatever with you last night, then you gave me a lap dance in the bathroom, yeah, you hate me a lot."

"It wasn't a lap dance," she thought out loud.

"What else would you call grinding your ass in my lap?" He asked sarcastically, making it sound extremely uncouth. (Well, it sort of was, but…)

"Screw you, Boone." She said quietly.

"So you can make fun of me, but I can't make fun of you?"

"Pretty much."

"You're pathetic."

"But you love me, remember?" He rolled his eyes and let the sounds of Christina Aguilera pervade throughout the car. This time she didn't tease him about it.


	17. Another Airport Trauma

**Chapter 17 – Another Airport Trauma**

Shannon was reclined on a black leather couch in the airport, as the annoying announcer on the intercom said, "Flight 338 to Fiji will be delayed. Please check the board for flight details." Great. Like she cared. She flipped a page in her word search magazine. Why the hell did she get a magazine that actually made her think? She would have gotten _Allure_, but Kirsten Dunst was on the cover, and that pretentious little brat annoyed the hell out of Shannon. Her stupid little wide face was always smiling that crinkly smile, and Shannon was so sick of her flip-flopping about her relationship with Jake Gyllenhaal, whom all the girls in school used to coo over. "His eyes!" They would exclaim, but everyone knew that Boone had the best eyes in the world. She shifted her legs on the armrest of the couch. Why had she insisted on wearing these stupid strappy sandals today? They were hurting Shannon's feet like hell, but she knew that the only reason that she was wearing them was because they were at the top of her suitcase and she didn't want to have to be in that eerily quiet hotel room with Boone any longer than she had to. So she just grabbed the first pair. It had been especially annoying because when she had gone out of the bathroom, Boone had just been sitting there, staring at the wall, looking like an idiot. She smirked when she realized why. He smirked back, and eventually stood up, wobbling a bit, and kept shaking his head and saying things like, "Lap dance" and "bathroom" and "Jesus." These words segued into meaner words, like, "Bitch" and "gold digger" and "slut." Oh. That was the word there. Eight down, eight letters, place where you get wet. _Bathroom_. Suddenly, an ugly leather bag landed on her feet. Some Arab guy was saying,

"Excuse me, would you mind watching my bag for a moment? I'll be right back." Well, he kind of had already entrusted her with that task by throwing the bag on her feet, hadn't he?

"Sure. Whatever."

"Thank you," he said, as if she had just told him she would give him a kidney transplant, or something. She frowned a little as she saw Boone stalking towards her. He was doing his male model walk again. Shannon had no idea where he had gotten this habit, but she was going to have to talk to him about it again. And, oh _fucking crap_. Was he honestly wearing a necklace? Could this guy possibly be more embarrassing? Ha. There was a ton of stubble on his face, and Shannon knew why. He hadn't had the guts to go into the bathroom after the little lap dance incident. Shannon thought that maybe she should have taken off the necklace during that incident, at least that way it would have been more productive. He plopped down, jostling Shannon's side of the couch. She scooted closer to him.

"I couldn't get us on to first class," he said, sounding pissed. She flipped her legs around so that she was sitting. Fourteen hours in fucking _coach_?

"Why not?"

"Um, maybe you shouldn't have yelled at the gate agent," he said, smirking. For some reason, she realized at that moment, how unnaturally much both of them smirked. She made a mental note to be more original in her facial expressions in the future. Or she could just add that to the list of things to complain to Boone about.

"What, so you're on his side now?" She simpered, and stood up. Yes, maybe she was enjoying this just a little. He wasn't. He followed her with his eyes, annoyingly, and said,

"One day you're going to appreciate everything I do for you." _And one day you're going to appreciate what kick ass blowjobs _I_ give you_, she thought.

But instead she said, luckily, "Yeah, I can't wait for that day." They stood up and headed towards the escalator. She pushed into his side to get ahead of him, _no it was not because she wanted to touch him_, she swore to herself. Once they were on the escalator, she said, "You can try again with that gate agent."

"Would you just let it go?" He sighed, turning his head away from her and looking longingly at some happy couple downstairs, hoping she wouldn't notice, probably. She did.

"Excuse me for not being pathetic enough to not want to sit next to some crying baby for the next 15 hours," she sneered. He turned back, pointedly.

"Oh god, you can be a bitch." What was this, his new favorite word?

"Oh, you wanna play?" _I do, I do_! "I will get you thrown off this flight."

"Yeah, how are you gonna do that?" He smirked. _God damnit, stop smirking!_

"I can do whatever I want," she said, like he didn't already know that. "I could tell them that…" She didn't really know what she could tell them. There was nothing suspicious about a tiny perfect man who walked like he thought he was a friggin' model. Although she could tell them that he had cocaine with him that he snorted so he didn't get hungry because he was a male mode – no, that was stupid.

"Tell them what?" He said, seeming to read her mind. "Who's going to believe you? You're not even capable of…" She didn't want to hear what he thought she wasn't capable of, so as she stepped off the escalator, she interrupted,

"You have no idea what I'm capable of." Suddenly, she had an idea as she saw a cop walk by. The Arab guy!

"Excuse me, sir?" She said earnestly.

"Yes, ma'am?" Said the cop. Shannon found it funny that he called her ma'am. With the way things had been going lately, she had convinced herself that _bitch_ was the new _ma'am_.

"Hi, um, some Arab guy just left his bags in the chairs downstairs and then just walked away," she said, trying to sound worried.

"Can you describe him to me, please?" Ha. Boone was so going to see what she was capable of. But now he was probably going to give her a 'don't be racist, bitch' speech.

"Um, Arab." She said, rolling her eyes. "He went towards the shops." She turned and looked at Boone as the cop nodded in recognition and walked off. She leaned her face in towards him and smirked (oh, just screw this trying to stop smirking thing!), "How's that?"

"Impressive," he said sarcastically, "If you want to make a living making racial slurs."

"Charmed, I'm sure." She said, equally sarcastic. "Hey, come here for a second." She said, stopping him in the middle of the walkway. She tugged on the necklace in question, and put her fingers around the back of his neck and tried to unclasp it, ignoring the hairs on the back of his neck that were standing up from her touch.

"What are you doing?" He said between his teeth.

"How many times have I told you how fucking gay this necklace makes you look?" She pulled on it again, harder.

"Ow! That hurts! You're going to break it!"

"Oh no, you'll break poor… Esteban's heart if he knows you broke his promise necklace!"

He laughed ruefully. "Esteban?" But sure enough, when she tugged the necklace off, finally, he didn't argue when she tossed it into the nearest trashcan… not much, anyway.

"What gate are we?" she asked. He stalked his male-model walk ahead of her, motioning for her to follow. "Work it on the runway, girl…" She rolled her eyes as she dryly made a comment about the walk.

"Shannon, would you stop acting like I'm –" he turned around, looking pissed off again.

"Look," she said, stepping towards him and putting a hand on each of his shoulders, as if she were talking to a little kid. "I know you're not gay." He looked at her skeptically. "I _know_, I gave you a lap dance this morning," she said, quieter so that no one could hear. "I could _feel_ that you were feeling a little – "

"Shannon, can we not talk about bodily functions here, please?" He pulled back, looking ashamed.

"Fine, no bodily functions. It just a little _hard_ for me not to talk about them." He frowned. "But…" she said quietly, forcing him to step forward and grabbing his shoulders again, "A pretty little boy like you just shouldn't wear jewelry. Or walk the walk. Try to, you know, limit the hip swings. M'kay?"

"Shannon?" he said, "First of all, I think you're jacket is the tackiest thing I've ever seen, and you're wearing too much concealer over that hickey. It's obvious you're hiding something. And also, you don't need to use that condescending tone, everyone already knows you're a bitch, it's written all over that little slut ribbon that's 'covering' your ass."

"What the fuck is a slut ribbon?" She said, trying to disguise that she was a little hurt.

"Some more liberal people might call it a skirt, sweetheart." He said sardonically.

"Don't call me sweetheart," she said, and walked ahead of him. He sped up to keep up with her, and went ahead again. "Would you fucking stop going ahead of me?" Some Hispanic woman with three grubby kids following her gave Shannon a dirty look. She gave the woman a dirty look right back.

"You don't know what the gate is!"

"Then why don't you just tell me what it is?" She said, walking faster still, trying to keep up with him.

"Because – "

"I know why. It's because you don't know what it is either, and you're too lazy to look in your pocket, and you're going to get us lost." He gave her a look that clearly said, "You are completely, 100 percent correct." She turned him so that he was facing her, and reached into his front pocket to get the ticket. He looked uncomfortable. "Oh, don't you _dare_," she looked up at him, giving him a glare of death. "If you can't control yourself for one fucking minute while I –" she fished out the ticket and patted the pocket in faux sweetness and pulled back. "…Get this damn ticket out, it says… gate 42, let's go, it's _that_ way, assface!" She pointed in the other direction, and, like the pathetic puppy dog he was, he following her ashamedly. At least he wasn't doing the Derek Zoolander anymore.

As they approached the gate to board the plane, Shannon noticed that the girl at the gate counter looked extremely frumpy and desperate. This gave her another idea…

"Hey," she whispered loudly to Boone as they stood in line.

"Yeah, what?" he said distractedly.

"You're going to hit on that girl at the counter and get us on first class."

"Um, what?"

"Go flirt with her. You're hot, it'll work."

"I thought you said I was gay," he said skeptically, but also looking quite pleased that she had called him hot.

"I said that you're practically metro sexual. Now go hit on her."

"What am I supposed to say?" He whispered hoarsely.

"Haven't you ever picked up a girl before?" She smirked.

"Yeah, but it's not right to make the poor girl…"

"Chicken," she said, and poked him in the arm.

"Fine, I'm a chicken." He shrugged.

"Boone," she murmured, breathing into his ear. "Please."

"Get away from me," he said, annoyed. _Damnit!_

"You're not going to do it?" She pouted.

"No."

"Please…" she grabbed his arm. "I'll give you the window seat…"

"Look, Shannon, what don't you understand about the word _no_?" She glared at him. "You know, I shouldn't have even let you in last night when you came to the hotel." Is that how he really felt?

"I didn't have anywhere to – " She argued, talking a little louder so that the person behind them, some little guy with sunglasses and a guitar, looked over at them.

"Just shut up." He said harshly, and she tried to fight off tears. When he spoke to her that harshly and that directly, when anyone did, but especially him, it really hurt.

He stepped up to the front of the queue, but then he noticed that Shannon was sniffling. "Hey," he said to the little guitar guy, "Go ahead." He pulled her aside. "What's the matter _now_, Shannon?"

"Don't use that tone, like there's always something the matter!" She cried, surprised by how insensitive he was being. Some more people, including a black woman and her husband, presumably, looking over. "You don't have to act like I've done something completely wrong!" She shook her head. She had done something completely wrong, so she said, "I mean, I did do something wrong, but I don't feel wrong about it. I mean, we both wanted it?" She lowered her voice so that the woman would look away. "About the money… I shouldn't have done that, okay?" She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. " But you shouldn't have used that tone with me."

"Sorry," he said weakly, and looked up at her again. "I'm sorry, Shannon." He wrapped his arms around her, and she accepted.

"It's okay," she whispered into his shoulder, and he seemed to have a flashback to the last time she had said this, and pulled back quickly.

"You ready?" He asked her, handing her a tissue.

"Yeah."

Sure enough, when Shannon and Boone arrived at their seats, there was already a braces-clad, iPod wearing young teenager sitting at the window seat. She looked up from her iPod and openly ogled at Boone. "Woah," she said, "Hi."

"Um," he said skeptically, "Hi?" Shannon smirked at him. Great. Fifteen hours with some stupid teenybopper who thought Boone was God's Friggin' Gift to Humanity.

"Do you want the window seat?" Said the girl, staring at him.

"It's okay – " he started, but she nudged him and interrupted,

"Yes. Yes. I want the window seat."

"Okay," said the girl, standing up and slid past Boone, looking inappropriately excited about doing so. Shannon giggled at the girl as Boone scooted over to the window seat. She wanted the window seat! Screw him!

"Boone," she said. "_I_ want the window seat." He closed his eyes in frustration and sighed.

"Just let it be, Shannon."

"No, screw you!" she glared at him. The girl looked up at her in awe.

"How about we switch halfway through?" He practically pleaded. "Come on, she's waiting to sit down again." He nodded at the girl, who looked in disbelief. What the fuck! He wasn't _that_ hot! She rolled her eyes at the girl and plopped down next to him. The girl sat next to Shannon.

"I'm Megan," said the girl to Shannon, who nodded ever so slightly. Boone nudged her, urging her to like, respond.

"Don't touch me!" She whirled around at him and leaned closer to him. "Stay the fuck away from me, Boone!" The girl gasped.

"Don't swear in front of that little girl!" He whispered in incredulity. Said little girl looked extremely insulted to be referred to as "little girl."

"Sorry," she said to the girl and looked at Boone expectantly.

"You can be such a bitch," he said.

"Boone, _don't swear in front of that little girl_!" She mimicked. "You said I was a bitch last night in the hotel, and look where that went. It's your fault I'm so fucking tired!" The girl's mouth dropped open. Well, bully for her if this entertained her!

"That's a hangover, and don't you think I'm a little tired myself? Like, more tired than you?"

"I didn't force you to go four times!" She whispered hoarsely, hoping the girl wouldn't hear. She did.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," interrupted the girl, who stood up and went towards it.

I'm sick of fighting," said Boone simply, blushing horribly from her comment.

"I know, we just made up, and now we're fighting again." Shannon said. "Sorry?"

"It's cool." He said. "Oh, wait, before I forget," he unzipped his bag and handed her her asthma inhaler. "In case you need it."

"Thanks, Boone." She smiled in spite of herself, and he smiled that sexy half-smile of his back at her.

The scrawny teenager came back right as the flight attendant started rattling off all of the exits and the security procedures. Blah, blah, blah, like Shannon was listening. Boone started breathing deeply as the plane rushed down the runway, and reached over to the armrest, groping for Shannon's hand. But Shannon had her hands neatly folded in her lap.

"I'm not afraid of flying anymore."


	18. The Crash

**Chapter 18 – The Crash**

The flight continued like all flights continue – monotonous, cramped, air so dry it makes your hair, no matter how expensive your blowout is, frizz out. Shannon and Boone hadn't really spoken much, much to the joy of the girl, who expressed her relief by turning up her Avril Lavigne full blast. Great. Now Shannon not only had to deal with Boone's random glowering glances, she also had to deal with the obvious strains of wannabe punk guitar riffs.

In comparison to the girl, Boone seemed to be a much more appealing person, so Shannon, bored with her magazine, decided to take a little nap – after all, she was hung over in addition to being exhausted. She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder softly, and shifted so that she was deeper into the crook of his neck. As she drifted off, she felt herself tickling his neck with her fingers, combing through the lower part of his hair with her nails, subtly so he didn't seem to think she was doing it on purpose. Stretching, she murmured, "Boone," and finally drifted off.

She slept surprisingly deeply, but she hadn't slept well in such a long time, and leaning on Boone's shoulder precariously turned out to be more comfortable than in a bed wrapped in Brian's unnaturally large limbs. And try as she might, she couldn't quite bring herself _not_ to dream of Boone. The expression of pure determination and desperation on his face last night when he had forced himself to move inside of her again… how she felt after - cold, alone, sated only by the rhythmic sound of his breathing… years ago, her father hitting a 12-year-old Boone in a drunken rage, but Boone hadn't ran away to protect himself, he had grabbed Shannon, her long blonde hair flying, and held her close to him so he wouldn't hit Shannon as well… a random April night in her senior year, she had pressed him into her closet door, dark and strewn with clothes, she was tugging down his boxers, sliding down him and… explaining to him after Emily left that they had to stop… wrapped around her at her father's funeral, letting her tears flow openly… whispering _Shannon_ late at night into her chest… Shannon's eyes opened as she sensed a slight bought of turbulence, and suddenly the little guitar guy squeezed past her rudely. "Excuse me!" She said, a hitch in her breath. How dare that little hobbit rush past her like he was someone special! He kept walking down the aisle, ignoring her, and then Shannon felt another bump on the ride. She sucked her breath in, and instinctively grabbed his hand, chorusing to herself in her head, _nothing's going to happen, nothing's going to happen_. But as the bumps quickened and became more aggressive, she had a sudden realization that something actually was going to happen. A resounding, fierce bought of turbulence passed through the plane again as it dipped crookedly to one side. "Boone," she whispered hoarsely in fright.

"It's okay," his eyes were closed tightly, and he seemed incredibly unconvinced as the plane took another twist to the left. Everything was blurring around her and somewhere distant she heard…

"_Please prepare for an emergency… emergency –_ " But the pilot's voice faltered, everyone's voices faltered, everything was dizzy and echoing and yelling. She didn't have time to recover from the shock as the plane shook more violently now. Suddenly, the only words running through her head were _crash, crash, crash_.

Those yellow masks dropped down, Shannon grabbed one, but Boone was already there, fastening it around her face. She craned her neck to the side, and there was the girl, sitting in complete shock, and before Shannon could tell her to watch out, a huge suitcase flew out of the compartment, hitting her on the face, narrowly missing Shannon, and it toppled the girl, _Meagan_, out of her seat. Shannon screamed, but no one could hear as the plane shifted violently and suddenly, she felt cold air from behind her and noticed in complete, utter horror that the entire back of the plane had just blown off! The plane dipped, turned, toiled, and it was falling, she gripped the seat, she held onto the armrest, she seized his hand, but it was no use, and pretty soon she was fumbling on the floor, wondering wildly where Boone was, if he was okay, if he was passed out just like that girl.

She was in such shock, such complete fear, and she could feel air whizzing by her ears as the plane started falling, and she could feel it declining as the pressure pulled at her skin, her hair blowing in all directions, the air sending a cold wind around the cabin of the plane. Shannon's eyes filled with tears, and she realized that death was an extreme possibility. "Oh god…" she cried, "Oh god…" Her breathing started to get a little rough, and she wheezed in fright. _Not right now, not right now_. She tried to control her asthma as tears ran down her cheeks. She feverishly reached into her pocket, and located the inhaler… _you can do this, you can do this_, she told herself. She breathed into the inhaler three times, and as she noticed someone finally hoisting open the emergency exit, she felt her breathing become more regular. She crawled across the floor, looking for Boone but not seeing him anywhere. What if he was stuck somewhere and was going to die? Shannon crawled across the practically vertical floor and to the door of the plane, but then, with a resounding crack, clank, and hundreds of screeches, the plane banged to the ground. Luckily, they hit a fairly smooth surface, and Shannon had been hanging onto a piece of the plane so her body hadn't been too injured. She did notice a slight throbbing crick in her neck, however.

A few people began to stir, and struggled to crawl from inside the claustrophobic area. There were bodies on the floor, some dead, some simply unconscious, and Shannon felt nauseous as she noticed that the girl who had been sitting near them was completely immobilized. She heard other pieces of the plane crashing to the ground in all areas, and the sounds and smells of a fire beginning to erupt. She squeezed passed a few people, tears openly streaming down her face, and toppled into the warm, humid air, laced with hysteria and chaos, and onto a beach whose beauty was disguised by the many pieces of plane wreck and injured bodies dabbling its shore. There was dust traveling everywhere, she squinted her eyes, unable to see or hear a thing. All she knew was a monstrous part of a plane standing in the middle of the beach.

She didn't know what to do, where to go, so she screamed loudly. She was shrieking now, a complete wreck. She didn't know where Boone was, where anything was, if anyone was going to live, if the fire was going to get larger, if she would ever see home again… "Boone!" She yelled, but what she was saying was destroyed by the sounds of the plane's failing engine. It seemed like she had been waiting there for an eternity, screamed herself hoarse, when she suddenly saw Boone, also searching for her. "Boone!" She shouted towards him. He looked at her, thoroughly relieved, and ran towards her, grabbing both of her hands. He squeezed each of her hands and looked at her, and she stared right back, still crying.

"You're okay," he said, relieved. "You're okay." He looked at her for one more beat, and then let go and ran off to go help people. Helping people – that was the last thing Shannon was thinking of right now. She heard a huge explosion off in the distance, a man in a suit rushed by her, and a blonde pregnant girl struggled in the distance as some fat guy tried to assist her. Everyone was helping everyone, but Shannon was just standing there – hello, she had just survived a major trauma, so she continued yelling. She had never seen so much blood in her life, so many dying people and so much chaos. For once in her life, she had absolutely no idea what was going to happen – she had never been in such an incredibly dire situation. Shannon thought she could see a bit of some guy in a blue shirt pushing futilely on some lady's chest – was it Boone? The dust and hysterical atmosphere made everything unrecognizable. The guy in the suit was there too, talking at him like he was an idiot.

Shannon noticed one side of the plane shift near her. It was going to fall – oh my god, it was going to fall! She ran up the beach, closer to where the beach turned into forest, where she was safely away from it. As the day went on, Shannon didn't know how many hours had passed – the wreckage made time seem so unimportant. When dusk came along, and the fire had stopped, so had the particles flying around, everything seemed a little calmer. Shannon knew that the airplane people knew exactly where they were – they would be back in L.A. tomorrow, right? She silently convinced herself she would, and went around trying to find her bag. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it, toppled over near a piece of an airplane seat, dirty but relatively unharmed, and decided to do something to distract herself from it all. She sat down between some pieces of the plane, where the ground was basically clear, and plopped down into the sand, unzipping her bag.

Ah. Nail polish. Nothing to distract her more than giving herself a good manicure. Honestly, Shannon hadn't given herself a manicure since she was fifteen, she had been getting her nails done regularly since then, but as Shannon shook the bottle and stroked a brush of Passion pink polish onto her big toe, she noticed that her skills hadn't really subsided much since. Boone plopped down across from her, looking at her tiredly, rather disappointedly, actually, and held up something in front of her face like it was a peace offering. She looked at it. Hershey's. _Chocolate!_ Why would she eat chocolate right now? She didn't even like chocolate, only white chocolate, he had known that since they were kids and she would eat the frosting off his piece of cake and he would eat the actual cake part. Sometimes she would let him lick some frosting off her fingers, but most of the time she ate it all herself. As they got older, though, she let him do it more, because the liked the feel of his tongue against her skin. Things hadn't changed much, had they?

"As if I'm going to start to eat _chocolate_," she said scathingly.

"Shannon," he started, "We may be here a while." Of course they weren't! This was just going to become some funny story they told at the dinner table at Thanksgiving! She made a pact that she wouldn't eat until they got rescued, which was going to be soon. _Very_, very soon.

"The plane had a black box, idiot. They know exactly where we are, they're coming. I'll eat on the rescue boat." She said disdainfully. He held up the chocolate again. "I'll _eat_ on the rescue boat!" she said again, an edge to her voice. What the fuck did he not understand about _no_? She glared at him, and he looked annoyed and upset that she was being so mean. Maybe somewhere in his twisted small, small brain, he thought that she would be nice to him because of the crash. But why would that change anything? What he did next, Shannon found gross. He unwrapped the chocolate bar and bit into it ferociously. She squinted. _Ew!_ But then as she glared at him, watching him eat it, she noticed his lips on the chocolate bar, and how they were moving, and how much she wanted to fucking _be_ that fucking chocolate bar… oh, gross, she so did not just think that! She shook her head and started working on her next nail. She _so_ did not just think that.

"D'you know what happened to that girl?" He asked her. She was paying attention to her third toe, which simply refused to cooperate. "Shannon?"

"_What_?"

"God, what's with you? I said do you know what happened to that girl who was sitting next to us?"

"Um," she said, remembering. "I don't know." She tried to sound nonchalant.

"Do you _have_ a heart? Don't you care?"

She paused from painting her nails. "Yes, I care, excuse me if it's not that most _pleasant _thing to think about!"

He breathed, glowering at her. "Last night seems really far away, doesn't it?"

"Are you being _sentimental_?"

"No!"

"Sounded like it, that's all," she teased. He wasn't amused.

"Just shut up, Shannon." She shut up, but suddenly she heard a monstrous noise coming from the jungle.

"What was that?" she looked up, suddenly.

"Did anybody hear that?" she heard the pregnant girl say in fright.

"Boone!" she screamed as he shot up and went towards it, her voice catching, making her sound like an idiot. The noise became louder, and soon everyone on the beach was standing up in confusion and fright, so Shannon, disregarding her wet toenail polish, jumped up and looked off into the jungle as well. What she saw was terrifying. Off in the dark, looming shadows of the forest were moving violently, but she couldn't see what was doing it.

"Terrific." Said some guy. Like now was a time to be sarcastic, that idiot. They all stared, stupefied, towards to forest, but eventually, the noises subsided and speaking in hushed tones, everyone went back to what they had been doing before.

She sat down in her spot and began redoing her nails. About a minute later, Boone sat down again next to her, looked at her toes, and sighed. So what if she was _disappointing _him?

"So what do you think that thing was?"

"I don't know," she said, for she had been willing herself not to think about it.

"Huh," he said. "Neither do I." She rolled her eyes. Did he truly expect her to _talk_ to him? They both knew very well that the only thing they ever did was fight and fuck. Nothing else. Talking? Please.

"How are the nails going?" He said mockingly.

"_Fine_." She spat, accidentally spilling some of it. Shit. She picked it back up expertly and glared at him. "I want to go _home_!"

"I have to get back to work," he said.

"They don't really need you. We all know you're just a puppet for Sabrina," she said, finishing off the last toenail.

"You know what I think, Shannon?"

"No Boone, what _do_ you think?" She said derisively, wiggling her toes, willing them to dry.

"I think you're jealous."

She scoffed. "Jealous? Yeah, my life's goal is to figure out what colors some stupid flowers are going to be – what's the difference between cream colored roses and fucking _ivory_ roses?"

"One of them is –"

"I was being rhetorical."

"Oh, big word, Shannon." She turned her head quickly to swear at him, but then she felt the crick in her neck start to burn.

"_Ow_," she squinted her eyes in pain. "My neck," she sighed, rubbing it.

"Was it the crash?" He said, suddenly sounding anxious.

"Yeah, I think so." She exhaled. "I can't reach, can you try to… you know, get it out?"

"I'll try," he said, looking uncertain. "Anywhere else?"

She smiled to herself. No, but she could sure pretend that there was. "Yeah, right here." She motioned to her lower back. Her _very_ lower back.

"Okay," he said, and kneeled behind her. She crossed her legs as he cautiously placed his hands on her neck. He pressed into her skin slowly, but then began kneading the muscles on her shoulders. She tried to suppress a moan badly. He smirked. "Where is it, exactly?" He cupped her head with his hand, using his other hand to touch random places on her neck. "There?" He asked, lightly pinching the area where her neck tapered into shoulder.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Oh god, yes," she whispered as he pushed down in the exact right area. "Mmmmm," she said as his warm fingers massaged her thin shoulders. She shifted awkwardly, shying away from his touch a little bit so that he had to lean in more. He did, and she could feel him breathing on her neck. She smiled again as he swooped his face closer, acting like he was going to kiss her neck but thought better of it.

"That better?" He muttered.

"No, do it more," she ordered. He brought his hands lower, to the place in her lower back where she had told him it hurt.

"There?" He rubbed one of the bones in her spine.

"No, lower," she smirked. He brought his hands lower until he was practically groping her ass, and she made sighs of delight as he massaged in all the right places. She had her eyes closed and was rotating her head in bliss. What was it about Boone's backrubs that seemed to make the fact that she had just crashed on a tropical island disappear?

"Shhhhh, Shannon," he admonished. "People are looking." He slowly tickled his fingers back up her back and squeezed her shoulders again. He continued to mold his fingers in her skin until people's fires near them began to go out and others stopped stirring and seemed to be making camp for the night. "Where are you going to sleep?" He asked her, his hands inevitably finding her butt again.

"God…" she sighed. " I dunno…"

"How about right here?"

"Sure… that's – that's fine. Mmmmm!" She gasped in delight as he caressed her, and she noticed he was more tickling and groping than actually massaging. "Boone," she said forcefully (but it came out as a moan).

"Yeah?"

"Boone." She tried to say again, and was a little more successful. "What are you doing?" He suddenly seemed to notice the fact that he was feeling her ass.

"Sorry," he pulled back embarrassedly. "Sorry."

"So…"

"So… where did you say you were going to sleep?" He changed the subject.

"Well, I said that I was going to sleep here," But that was when she was under his friggin' powers… "But I think I'm going to go and sleep over there now," she pointed towards the further half of the beach.

"Okay," he said, sounding a little disappointed. "Your neck better?"

"Oh yeah," she said distractedly. "It's a lot better, thanks. You should ditch the friggin' color schemes and just become a massage person."

"Masseuse?"

"Yeah, that. But then you have to deal with fat, hairy old people." She stood up. "Can you believe we were just in a plane crash?" She complained. "I hate this place!" A few people looked around at this tackily dressed, strange girl who had just been moaning like she was having sex and was now screaming at someone who couldn't do anything about the situation. She grabbed her bag and stalked over towards the other side of the beach.

The first thing she noticed was that it was cold. Then there were looming shadows all around her, whistles of wind, and approximately half a minute later, she was standing next to Boone, who was lying on a jacket again. "Hey," she whispered loudly. "Scoot over."

"I was wondering how long it would take you," he smiled wanly. "You always were afraid of the dark." She climbed next to him, and he wrapped his arms around her shivering body. And when she awoke at the first light of dawn the next morning, she was happy that it was Boone wrapped around her.


	19. Day 1 on Craphole Island

**Chapter 19 – Day 1 on Craphole Island **

She opened her eyes, suddenly remembering that she was stuck on a friggin' island, and had just been in a plane crash. A plane crash!

"Boone," she whimpered, "We'll get rescued today, right?"

"I don't know," he said, stroking her hair lovingly. "I hope so."

She stretched out her toes and looked down at them. "Shit, my manicure's already screwed up!"

He pulled her closer. "Uh oh," he whispered playfully, dawdling with her fingers. She opened her mouth to snap some nasty comment at him, but didn't have enough energy, and the fact that she had just woken up was making her soft, so she buried her head into his chest, surprisingly giddy for someone who had slept on the ground, just been in a plane wreck, and had ruined her manicure. She rolled away from him, noticing that people were looking at them strangely.

"People are waking up, we probably should…" she said, standing up. "Hey, think about this: we're probably going to be in our nice warm beds tonight, and everything will be back! I don't know if my hair can stand this island much longer!" She smiled, but noticed that he wasn't smiling back. Maybe her comment had hit too close to home. To disguise the awkwardness, she smirked and said, "You've got sand all over your hair – it looks like discolored dandruff," and stalked off to dramatize the situation. Realizing that she didn't really have a place to stalk to, she went back to Boone and stood there rather pathetically.

"What?" he asked, surprisingly cold for someone who had been holding her and whispering in her ear minutes before.

"I dunno," she said, and followed him as he walked up the beach towards some other people. She felt pathetic following him around, that was _his_ job. The little hobbit guy was standing next to her, and he looked at her. Oh god, he so was _not_ checking her out!

"_What_?" she said, rolling her eyes. He didn't answer her, but then Boone was standing on the other side of her.

"Shan, you cold?" He asked her, draping an airline blanket over her shoulders. If Shannon wasn't so trained in the art of bitch, she would have cooed to him about how sweet he was.

But she was, so she just muttered, "Yeah," as he walked away.

"You and your boyfriend having a row?" Asked the guy in a British lilt.

"We're not going out," she answered carefully. "And _no_, we're not having a _row_," she said, making fun of his word choice.

"Oh, because I saw you guys this morning, and you looked pretty…" he smiled, "Close."

"He's my brother," she snapped, and instantly regretted the fact that now they couldn't pretend to be a couple. "Gross!"

She trudged away from him as he said, "I'm Charlie, by the way!" She looked into the mirror of her compact, washed off her old makeup and applied some more.

A few hours later, Shannon was lying in the sand near the pregnant girl, showing off her nearly skeletal figure in a salmon-colored bikini. Boone's favorite. Well, the least this dumb island could do for her was give her a good tan. She sensed him approaching, sensed him subtly checking her out. Even though her eyes were closed, she could tell where he was looking, and now he was right on target. Perfect. He was saying something, but she was only half paying attention.

"Hey we're going through some clothes, sorting them. I see you've found your bag," he continued icily. She didn't respond. What was the point, it would just distract him from staring up and down her legs, which was obviously what he wanted to be doing. Or so she thought. "How about coming and _giving a hand_?" He said unsubtly. Why would she want to give a hand? They were going to be safely at home by tonight, tomorrow tops. And what would they even do with the clothes?

"Not really." He paused, sighing. She squinted at him, and saw that he was biting his lip in concern. "You're wasting your time. They're coming." Yeah, like maybe if she said it nastily enough, it would come true. He looked at her one more second, and then started walking away.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Asked the pregnant girl, who was tiny and blonde, with an Australian accent. Okay, what was with all these little blondes on this island? But there was something about this girl that seemed sweet – generally this was something that annoyed Shannon half to death, but she had some sort of characteristic that Shannon couldn't explain that made her want to answer her question. But why did everyone always ask if he was her boyfriend?

Without saying yes or no, Shannon answered, "My brother. Boone. God's Friggin' Gift to Humanity." The girl smiled.

"I used to have a stomach," she said, looking enviously at Shannon. Shannon and Anna had decided when they were young that if they ever had kids, they would adopt so their bodies wouldn't change. Anna had added that she didn't know if she could _not_ have sex for that long while she was pregnant, and they had burst into a fit of hysterical giggles. Then Boone had come downstairs and Anna had started making out with him. Fit of hysterical giggles thus aborted. Looked like this girl still _had_ a stomach, big time. Claire started taking off one of her shirts, stretching.

Shannon suddenly felt very exposed to the air now that Boone was gone, so she turned onto her stomach and asked the girl, "Do you know what it is?" Duh, idiot, it's a kid.

"Not yet." She sighed. "I haven't felt the baby move since yesterday." Shannon stretched out further.

"Is that bad?" Asked Shannon ignorantly.

"Well, I don't know. Usually I feel him or her move a few times a day."

"So do you think something bad happened to it during the crash?"

"I don't know, I mean, the crash was pretty… rough. So something could have happened to damage him or her." The girl looked at the ocean. "There was a doctor, on the plane. Maybe I'll ask him about it later." Shannon nodded slightly. Boone was a lifeguard for a summer once, to impress people probably, but all it did was make people think he was gayer than they had already thought he was. He seemed to think it made him like, a friggin' doctor. And Boone's CPR was a hell of a lot worse than his kissing. "I'm Claire, by the way," she said.

"Shannon." Shannon remembered that the first girl who Boone had kissed was named Claire. Shannon had opened her window one night and looked downstairs and seen them. It was an awkward, first kiss type of kiss, and Shannon was sure to make fun of him went he came in. Then, out of jealousy, she had pretended to have a nightmare so he would let her sleep in his bed. The next day, he broke up with… Claire. Shannon noticed that this Claire was much prettier than Boone's Claire.

"I had an Aunt named Shannon," said Claire. "She died from heart disease a few years ago."

"I'm sorry," said Shannon. "My father died a few years ago."

"Sorry," said Claire a little uncomfortably.

"It's okay," Shannon said, and she sensed Boone's presence from behind a piece of plane. "What do you want, Boone?"

He came out from behind whatever he was behind. "How'd you know I was there?"

"Were you spying on me, assface?"

"N – no," He stuttered.

"Then what were you doing?"

"I was just wondering if your back was okay," he said. _Sure_, he just wanted another excuse to touch her.

"It's _fine_," she said scathingly. "Now go away." Claire looked at them questioningly. Shannon noticed Boone look at her for a second.

"Hi," he said to Claire. "I'm Boone."

"I know, she told me. God's Friggin' Gift to Humanity, right?" She smiled.

"I don't know. She's been calling me that since I was sixteen. I don't know why, even. What's it mean, Shannon?"

"It means you should leave me the hell alone."

"Why are you so mean to me?"

"Why can't you take a hint?"

"Oh my _god_," he rolled his eyes. "I take it you're okay, then?"

"Yes, I'm fine. You're not my babysitter. Although wouldn't it be naughty if you were?" She flirted. Oops. Crap!

"What the hell does that mean?" He asked her. Claire looked at them again uncomfortably.

"I dunno, just something I heard on TV," she covered up.

"O…kay," he sighed. "See you."

"You an Aries?" Asked Claire as he left.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Asked Shannon, looking at her in surprise.

"Forceful, independent… arrogant."

"Arrogant?" She said arrogantly.

"It's just what some book I read said. Sometimes astrology can be a load of crap, but I think it's interesting. In high school, I was trying to make extra money for college by reading people's palms and doing charts. It didn't work very well," she laughed. "People think its bull."

"Oh," said Shannon slowly. "What else do you know about Aeries?"

"Well, they're outspoken, enthusiastic, very, very independent, and they can think fast - calculative." Claire paused. "Sound like you at all?"

"Yeah, a little," said Shannon.

"Let's see… fear of rejection." That was true for Shannon. "You're a fire sign, and your color is red… said to be impatient and domineering. You ego needs approval from people. You do well with Sagittarians, but you're very… attracted to Scorpios." Shannon swallowed.

"Wow, you know a lot. What are you?"

"Pisces." Said Claire, rubbing her stomach. "I'm getting worried about the baby."

"Huh." Said Shannon, who knew nothing about kids. "So, you're from Australia?"

"Yeah, Sydney. Where are you from?"

"L.A." she answered, "California."

"I can imagine that," said Claire, smiling serenely. "Were you in Sydney on vacation?"

Shannon thought. "Yeah, vacation. With our whole family – obviously, it was hell."

Claire smiled. "I think it would be nice."

"Yeah, well, my brother and my nerdy cousin… Danny playing video games drunk at three in the morning next door is _not_ nice, by any means." Why the hell was she making this stuff up, and where was she getting it?

Claire smiled. "Your brother seems nice."

"Fucking annoying, if you ask me." And fucking hot. "He thinks he's my mother."

Claire laughed. "Let me guess, he's a Scorpio. Scorpios often have penetrating eyes, appear controlled and calm but are actually energetic on the inside. Sensitive."

"He's a Scorpio."

"Scorpio." Said Claire. But Shannon was remembering what Claire had said a minute ago about Aries being attracted to Scorpios.

A few hours later, Shannon was walking by a group of people. There was one young man in the middle of the group, sobbing. She overhead him cry, "I had one first class and one coach seat, and I gave the…" he sobbed again, causing Shannon to become more and more emotionally involved with the man. Tears were contagious, and Shannon was thinking about the fact that she and Boone hadn't gotten onto first class.

"I gave the first class ticket to my mother, and she was killed in the crash!" The man's sobs wove their way into Shannon's heart, and she was suddenly very grateful for that gatekeeper at the airport who had refused to let them onto first class. She had tried to charm him, and when that didn't work, she had yelled at him, screamed at him for many things that weren't at his hands. But it was thanks to him that she was alive. Thanks to him that Boone was alive.

Shannon slid down into the sand, somberly putting her head in her arms. She sat there, tearing just a little bit and staring pensively off into the ocean. A crash. How many people had died? How many people knew people who had died? How many relatives were worried sick about their loved ones who had been on that plane? She could count Sabrina off that list.

Boone started coming up towards her, so she scrunched up her face more and continued to sit there, sniffling and ignoring her presence. He sat down next to her and they stared rather helplessly towards the ocean. "What are you doing?" He said in a voice that was not especially sympathetic.

"I think I was mean to him." She blurted out.

"What?" He said defensively, thinking that she was talking about Brian, presumably.

"To that guy from the gate," she clarified, "He wouldn't let us have our seats. He saved our lives." She broke out into real tears now, and Boone looked at her for a second, shocked. She thought he was going to put his arm around her, comfort her, but was surprised when he started to make a first effort to stand up, annoyed. Did it scare him, what she had said?

"C'mon Shannon." He started out sympathetically. "We're clearing out some of the wreckage, you should help." His tone gradually became more hostile. What the hell was his problem? He stood up and crossed her. "You're just being worthless over here."

What the hell? Worthless? Shannon was many things – bitchy, callous, self-centered… worthless? "I'm being _what_?" There was something about that word… worthless described a dead leaf on the ground, a candy wrapper in a trashcan. Worthless never described a person, and she knew that wasn't how he really felt. Or was it?

"What do you want me to say? You're sitting on your ass staring at bodies." He said disagreeably, his voice raising. Maybe he was remembering the money thing, and how easily he had let her off. But he was being so fucking mean!

"Hello, I've just been through a major trauma here, okay!" She sputtered, hurt. She always did manage to make it about her, didn't she?

"We've all been through a trauma here," he smirked. "The only difference is that since the crash you've given yourself a pedicure!"

"You know what!" Oh, he was so asking for it. "It is so easy to make fun of me. You're good at it. I get it!" It was true, it was like, the only power he had over her, and she was _damn_ sick of it!

"I wish I didn't have to waste my time making fun of you. I wish I didn't have a reason. And yeah, it is easy, Shannon!" He yelled. People were starting to look. _What was with these two_, people were probably thinking. They were like, straight from The Young and the Restless.

"Screw you." He gave her a look that quite obviously said, _woops, already have_. "You don't have the slightest idea of what I am thinking!" She shouted. For example, he didn't have the slightest idea of how much she was in love with him, how much she hated it. How guilty she felt for every little comment she made about him, how much she wished they could start over.

" I have more of an idea than you think I do!"

She interrupted him, screaming hysterically, "No you don't!"

"Okay Shannon," he said, giving her a malevolent glare. "Then what are you _thinking_?" Her face contorted in distress, and she cried harder. He looked a little guilty now, a little surprised by the tears running down her face. And he had never been able to resist her crying.

Suddenly, Shannon watched as two people, a classically beautiful brunette and some Arab guy, whom she realized was the one who she had turned in at the airport (she hoped he didn't remember) preparing to go somewhere, obviously on a hike. She could prove that little fucker wrong. He didn't know shit about her.

"I'm going with them, on the hike." She smirked determinately.

"Yeah?" He smiled, like he thought she was joking.

"Yep." She said angrily. "I'm going."

"No, you're not." But as he realized that she was serious, he tried to pull her back. "Shannon!" She tore off. "Shannon!" He screamed, like she was going to murder someone. God. He really needed to calm down. She walked in between the brunette girl and the airport guy. They looked pissed.

She felt extremely out of place, but she said anyway, "I'd like to come with you." They stared in disbelief, and Shannon could tell that she was going to seriously clash with this brunette girl. In actuality, Shannon would have much preferred to stay with Claire on the beach, but she also wanted to get away from Boone and prove him wrong, and now, that was more important to her.

But that stupid idiot was close behind. "No, she's not. This is what she does." _This is what she does_? What did that mean?

"The hell I'm not! You don't know what the hell I do!" Their brother-sister screaming match was on again, and she was _going_ to win.

"She makes really bad decisions to upset her family, which at the moment," he paused. Who the hell was he talking to, he was looking right at her! But Shannon was rather used to that. "Is _me_!"

"Shut up and stop trying to be charming." She looked back at them, and the Arab guy was scratching his beard in thought, amusement maybe. The brunette girl looked kind of taken aback, on the other hand. "I'm coming with you."

"Um," said the brunette, "I don't know if that's such a good idea." She said this cautiously, like she was afraid of what her reaction would be.

"What are you, like two years older than me?" Okay, maybe four, but still! Suddenly, that stupid little prat of a hobbit was walking up smugly, smiling drunkenly. "You're going, aren't you?"

"Yeah, are you?" He said, taken aback, and staring at her legs, the pervert.

"Yep." She looked away.

"Everybody can come," said the girl toughly. "But we're leaving _now_." The Arab guy shook his head. Shannon walked in front of Boone and Charlie, who tapped her on the shoulder.

He called to her, "You couldn't tell from that, but she's actually really nice!" Oh god. What had she gotten herself into?


	20. More to the Island than We Thought

**Chapter 20 – More to the Island Than We Thought **

They walked into the jungle, Boone taking the back of the group, Shannon lingering close ahead, and the Arab guy and the pretty brunette took the lead. Charlie was somewhere in the middle, and they had just steadied their pace when a guy who was hot but looked rather tough joined them. "You decided to join us?" said the brunette.

"I'm a complex guy, sweetheart." Drawled the hot guy, walking to the front of the group.

"So, um, guys, where exactly are we going?" Charlie piped up after a few minutes.

"We're going up to higher ground to see if the radio will work from there," said the Arab guy curtly.

"It didn't work from the beach?" Boone asked. No, idiot, that's why they were going up.

"No," said Kate politely. "What's your name? I don't think we've met."

"Boone," said Boone. "And you're… Kate, right?"

"Yeah," said Kate. "And you're… Shannon?"

"Yep," she said. What was this, summer camp?

"I'm Sayid," said the Arab guy. "Come along, let's move quickly."

"Bet he's used to movin' quickly, hidin' away from all the soldiers tryin' to find him, huh, sweet cheeks?" Said the tough blonde man in a southern drawl to Shannon.

Shannon rolled her eyes. "He's not a friggin' terrorist," she scoffed in a bored tone.

"You're one of _those_ chicks, huh?" He said.

"Look man, who _are_ you anyhow?" Boone interjected.

"Shut up, Boone, let me handle just _one_ thing on my own for once, okay?" She snapped.

"It's Sawyer," said the man, smirking. "Who's this? Friend, friend-with-benefits, sworn enemy, boyfriend, sex-slave, brother, what?" _Um ,_she thought. _All of the above?_

"My idiot brother," she said.

"Really?" said Sawyer, looking surprised. "Well, aren't we just full'a surprises here?" Shannon didn't know what to make of this statement.

"So," said the hobbit, "I'm Charlie, by the way. You all everybody!" he squealed unattractively.

"Are you _high_?" Shannon asked. "Or do you always sing that badly?" The guy named Charlie looked ashamed and did not speak for a long time.

Charlie was the first to see it. "Bloody hell," he exclaimed as his first words since Shannon shot him down. They looked up. There, straight ahead, was a towering, practically vertical face of rock. There weren't going to –

"Well," said the guy named Sayid, "Better start climbing." Shit! What the fuck had she gotten herself into?

"Boone," she whispered, tapping his shoulder.

"Don't worry, you can do it," he said absently. Stupid!

Sawyer, Sayid and Kate started climbing first, and Shannon could tell that they were in very good physical shape, not cautious at all. Charlie on the other hand, tried to appear confident, but tripped a little as he grabbed onto a tree branch. Shannon went next. Hands shaking, she slowly took a strong-looking weed in her hands. Pulling up, Shannon dug her feet into the dirt, and grabbed onto the next branch. Boone started up behind her. Great. He was going to stare at her ass the entire time, and get so distracted he would probably fall down the whole mountain and die. Just fabulous.

Once they had gained a fairly steady pace, Boone ended up more next to her than behind her, which seemed like a better position than behind her, but it wasn't, because whenever she faltered her steps the tiniest bit, he would grab onto her – her elbow, the back of her thigh, her waist, and Shannon wasn't sure she could handle that, and it was annoying, so she threw his arms off of her. They were almost there.

She was breathing hard, sweating, this was probably the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life, not counting the hours she used to spend on the treadmill in her room every spring before bikini season, exerting every muscle in her body so much she would literally faint in her room, and Boone would have to carry her downstairs and put a cold washcloth to her face and watch Friends reruns with her until she summoned enough energy to get up and take a shower – sometimes alone, and sometimes with him, depending on where they relationship stood during that particular spring.

The last stretch of the mountain approached, and she reluctantly let Sayid pull her up (as stupid Boone grabbed her upper thigh, making her shiver). She scrambled to the top, and twisted vines snaked their way towards Shannon's face, scraping her skin as she let Boone hoist her over the clearing. When she was safely at the landing, she sat down for a few minutes, her eyes closed, and Boone gave her his water bottle. "Do you have your inhalers?" He said quietly to her.

"No, do you?" she said under her breath.

"No," he said in concern.

"You idiot! How could you – god, I hate you!" She screamed.

"Would you two quit having a go at each other?" Said Charlie, exasperated, and also sitting down in exhaustion. They ignored him.

"Shannon, you think it's my responsibility to always take _care_ of you and make sure everything's all right, and the second I've done that, you're just screaming at me all over again and – " He was mad at her for Sydney. He was mad at her…

"That's not true and you know it! You're just an idiotic bastard, always trying to be so charismatic, but nobody even likes you! You're so desperate!" She screeched.

"We really need to get going," said Sayid, who had stood up impatiently. "Let's go." Sawyer looked back at Shannon and gave her a secretive smile. What did that mean? The group walked in silence, and again, Shannon and Boone lagged behind.

"You're mad at me for Sydney," she whispered quietly, practically mouthing the last word.

"Yeah, you conned me out of half a million dollars and then _seduced_ me, yeah, I'm mad at you, Shannon." He whispered hoarsely, looking at Charlie suspiciously to make sure he couldn't hear.

"I didn't seduce you, you know I wanted it as much as – " Charlie looked back, but he hadn't heard any of the content of their conversation.

"I'm done talking about this, Shannon," he said calmly as they veered through a green pasture of jungle.

"Okay, wide open space!" exclaimed a voice from behind them. It was Sawyer. Shannon had thought he was ahead of them! She silently prayed that he hadn't heard anything. "You should check the radio, see if we're good!"

"We're not going to have any reception here." Said Sayid in an annoyingly strong accent.

"Just try it!" Sawyer argued.

"I don't want to waste the batteries," said Sayid decidedly, an edge to his voice.

"They fight like an old married couple," she whispered to Boone, forgetting that they were supposed to be annoyed with each other. He chuckled, shaking his head.

Sawyer and Sayid were still arguing, and Shannon wasn't paying attention until suddenly, Sayid flipped out, shouting, "If I just check we might not have any juice left when we get to – " Everyone stopped with a start as Sayid was interrupted by a monstrous sound behind them. It growled, and moved, whatever it was, frighteningly. They all looked around, trying to find this mysterious, dangerous creature.

"Oh my god," Shannon squeaked.

"What the hell was that?" Boone asked.

"Something's coming," Kate said, sounding petrified.

"I think it's coming towards us," Charlie panicked.

"Come on, let's move," someone said, and they all began to run away, except Shannon, who started screaming, she was so fucking scared! Boone grabbed her arm and pulled her away, until she started scuttling along with everyone else. They were all running when a gunshot sounded. Then another. And another. Its echoes reverberated in the quiet jungle. Everyone had stopped running and were staring at Sawyer, at this giant white mass that was tearing towards him, and then, with one final lurch, fell to the ground with a thud.

In realization, Shannon sighed, "That's a big bear." In front of them lay a gargantuan heap of white fur, dead and cold in the grass.

"Think that's what killed the pilot?" Asked Boone. Shannon had heard someone talking about the incident with the pilot as she tanned that morning. She responded to the knowledge, of course, by shutting it out of her mind, as she did with most things that disturbed her.

"No, that's a teeny, tiny version compared to that," Charlie decided.

"Guys, that's just not any bear. That's a polar bear." Kate breathed.

About an hour later, her mind still spinning with thoughts of that horrible bear, Sayid turned on the radio as Sawyer yelled something at him. But sure enough, about a minute later, they were all crowded around the radio, as crackly sounds were now escaping from it in gurgled waves. "Mayday, mayday!" yelled Sayid, as everyone looked at the thing, fascinated.

"What is that?" Kate asked anxiously.

"Feedback."

"Feedback from what?" She said.

"I don't know."

"I'll tell you what would do that," Sawyer drawled dubiously, "This guy not fixing the radio. That thing doesn't even work."

"No, no, no, no, no! It's not broken. We can't transmit because something else is already transmitting." Sayid exclaimed earnestly. Shannon was confused. What the hell was going on, here?

"Transmitting from where?" Asked Charlie.

"What!" she said.

"Somewhere close. The signal's strong." Sayid answered.

"Somewhere close, you mean on the island?" Charlie supposed, "That's great."

"Maybe it's other survivors," Boone said stupidly (but maybe the stupid part was a given).

"From our plane? How would they even –" Shannon argued, but Sawyer interrupted her.

"What kind of transmission is it?" He said impatiently.

"It could be a SAT phone, maybe a radio signal," Shannon didn't know what these things were, but they sounded like they got them closer to being rescued, so she pretended she did.

"Can we listen to it?" Kate said intensely.

"Let me get the frequency first, hold on," said Sayid, struggling.

"There's no transmission," Sawyer said negatively. Shannon already didn't like Sawyer; he was just making things more difficult.

"Shut up!" Kate shouted, annoyed. Shannon wondered how these two knew each other. Maybe they were exes or something.

"The rescue party, it has to be!" Charlie exclaimed. The radio bubbled out a very mangled French voice. "The French, the French are coming! I've never been so excited to hear the French!" Charlie sounded like they had just found the cure for cancer, as did Sayid, who was smiling for the first time she had ever seen him smile. Freaks. But it was… French. She strained her ears, desperately trying to understand or remember anything from the year in hell she liked to call France.

Kate sounded impatient. "I never took French, what is she saying?"

Sayid suddenly stopped laughing and turned his head intently. "Does anyone speak French?"

Boone looked at Shannon. Oh, crap, now she was going to look like an idiot! "She does."

"No, I don't. What?" Okay, so maybe she knew a little, but she hadn't spoken it in years and she was going to mess everyone up, and they'd all think she was really stupid! Now Boone was getting really pissed off, too!

"What the hell are you talking about?" He pointed at her angrily, getting all in your face like he always insisted on doing. "You spent a year in Paris!"

"Drinking, not studying!" She screamed.

"Iteration 7294531." The radio said. What did that mean?

"Okay, what's that?" Charlie asked.

"Oh, no, no, no, no!" Exclaimed Sayid dramatically.

"No, no, no, What?" Kate asked.

"The batteries are dying."

"How much time do we have?"

"Not much."

"I've heard you speak French before." He mustered into her ear. Yeah, studying for a Lesson 1.1 Vocabulary Quiz when she fifteen! "Listen to this. Listen to it."

"I can't!" She yelled. She didn't know why she being so resistant, but she was just going to look dumber doing this.

"You speak French or not, because that would be nice!" Sawyer asked, obviously annoyed with these damn kids who wouldn't stop blowing each other's heads off.

She stared at the radio, shaking her head slightly, as the radio announced, "Iteration 17…"

"That voice is weird. What is that?" Charlie asked, Sherlock Holmes style.

Everyone looked at Shannon, urging her to translate the transmission. She heard it say something. The same thing. "It's repeating," she said decisively.

"It's a loop. Iteration, it's repeating the same message. The counter, the next number will end 533." Sayid said victoriously.

"Iteration: 17294533," said the transmitter. Wow, however lacking in emotional range this guy was, she had to admit that he seemed pretty smart.

"Does anyone know what the hell he's talking about?" Sawyer asked impatiently.

"It's a running count of the number of times the message has repeated! It's roughly 30 seconds long so, how long…" He wiped his forehead, in deep thought.

"Don't forget to carry the one, chief," Sawyer said sarcastically.

Shannon closed her eyes, trying to convince herself to listen to the thing. She didn't know why she was so scared, but if she got it wrong… she imagined the whole group glaring at her, whispering to each other and shaking their heads at how stupid she was. No, she should think more positively… she listened.

"_Veuillez m'aider." _She thought she heard. M'aider… she vaguely remembered some woman in a lingerie store in France asked her this as she walked into the store… help me… that's what it meant! Veuillez… to want…

"She's saying…" Shannon paused, "She's saying 'please come help me', 'please come get me'…"

"Or not!" Sawyer raged. "You don't even speak French!" Bastard.

"Let her listen," Kate encouraged.

"Shut up, man," Boone stood up for her, and for once Shannon was glad.

"The battery…" Charlie gently reminded.

"Iteration 17294535." Shannon grabbed the radio.

"_Je suis seul maintenant…" Je suis_ was 'I am', _seul maintenant_ was 'only now' – alone now, how Shannon always was in Jean's apartment…

"I'm alone now…"

"_Sur suele l'île."_ 'L'île', island.

"On the island alone…"

"_Quelqu'un…" _Somebody… "_veuillez venir_…" please come…

"Somebody please come," she repeated.

"_Les autres_ _ils sont, ils sont morts_."

"The others, they're all… they're all dead." Shannon swallowed. Maybe there was more to this island than humidity and mosquitoes after all… everyone looked troubled.

"_Elle les a tués. Elle les a tués tous."_

"It killed them, it killed them all." Okay, now she was officially scared. Maybe _it_ was that thing they had heard in the jungle that morning? She looked at the radio. The message started over.

Boone, always unable to understand information, just said, "That was good," to Shannon distractedly.

"Sixteen years!" Exclaimed Sayid.

"What?" Sawyer asked with an edge.

"16 years and 5 months, that's the count!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Boone asked. Duh, idiot, the transmission. The transmission… it had been going for… sixteen years.

"The iterations. It's a distress call, a plea for help, a mayday." Yes, thank you, we all know what a distress call (c_all_, not c_oll_) is. "If the count is right it's been playing over and over for 16 years."

"Someone else was stranded here?"

"Maybe they came for them?"

"If someone came why is it still playing?"

"Guys…" Charlie looked up in confusion. "Where _are_ we?"

Shannon made a tiny noise of fright. What was this place, and were they going to be here for sixteen years? _No_, said a voice in her head, they would come rescue them tomorrow, maybe tonight. Maybe Sayid was wrong. He could very well be wrong, right?

Sayid did not say anything, instead he just turned around, and Kate went ahead of them, and they walked in awed silence for a while.

"It's getting dark," Boone pointed out as the sun began to fall behind some trees.

"Then pick up the pace," snarled Sawyer, looking very intimidating next to Boone, who was small in comparison. When Shannon wore heels, he was small in comparison to _her_. Boone always used to complain about his height, especially when Shannon would make fun of him for being pretty and little. But when Shannon told him it made him seem even more metro sexual then he already was, he refrained from talking abut his height, or any other aspect of his appearance, very often. Except when he decided to cut his hair, also thanks to Shannon, because it looked like he had a comb over.

"Dick," muttered Boone, obviously not one of Sawyer's biggest fans.

"Little louder?" mocked Sawyer.

"We should make camp." Sayid decided.

"What, here?" They were going to sleep in the middle of this monster-infested jungle?

"Yes, here." Answered Sayid rudely. Well, excuse me if he didn't have any compassion for someone who actually did have emotions! Right now, the arrow was pointing to _scared_. His was pointing to _not applicable_ one hundred percent of the time, she guessed.

They all stopped walking, except Sawyer, who kept on trudging ahead. "Ya'll have a nice cookout," he said, "I'm not stopping."

"Excellent, walk through the jungle in the dark!" Sayid said irritably.

"Oooooh, afraid the trees are going to get us?"

"No, what is knocking down the trees will get you." Shannon noticed that Sayid had this way of making everything sound more dramatic and frightening than it was.

Sawyer smiled cheekily, and suddenly, to Kate and herself anyway, all of his asshole characteristics were suddenly erased. Oooooh, dimples! But what he said next distracted them from this fact. He pulled out his gun and said, "Well, if you're so worried about me, why don't you give me the clip back?"

"Put your gun back in your pants, Sawyer," Kate sighed, as the perverted teenager side of Shannon took charge. Gun in your pants! Sawyer smiled again as his perverted teenager side took advantage of him as well. Kate was not amused, however. "Sayid's right, if you keep walking you're not going to make it to the beach."

"Yeah, why's that?"

"Trust me."

Shannon didn't remember much about the rest of the evening, except about how friggin' miserable she was, and how Sayid made the final decision that they would not tell anyone what they heard.

"So," said Charlie, after hours of sitting by the fire and listening to Sayid give them a lecture. "I guess we should all turn in. I'm going to go take a leak over there," he motioned towards some bush. Farther, Charlie, farther away! The last thing she wanted was to listen to some short British guy pee.

Kate turned over and closed her eyes, and the rest of them followed suit, including Charlie, who stumbled back a few minutes later. Somehow, Shannon ended up between Sayid and Boone, which was just a wee bit awkward, so she crossed her arms over her chest and lay on her back, not expecting to fall asleep at all. Hopefully what's-his-name wouldn't get any ideas. Sayid was like, sprawled on the ground, and Boone was peacefully curled up on her right. She inched towards him. Now that she was near his body heat, she felt a little more relaxed, but it's not like she was going to touch him, because they were so close to everyone else. After a few minutes (or was it hours?) she began to doze off a little… until…

She heard Sayid yell, "What are you doing?" and her eyes shot open, as she looked at Boone, who holding the clip guiltily. Oh, what idiotic thing had he done now?

"Standing guard. You heard what they said is out there!" Standing guard? Five foot nine Boone, standing _guard_?

"You took my gun off me, boy?" Said Sawyer suspiciously. Boone looked at Shannon for support.

"Please, you've never even held a gun," she said to him. "He doesn't believe in guns. He goes on marches," she formulated. Sure, it wasn't true, but she _was_ standing up for him.

"I don't go on marches."

"Give it back to me." Sayid decided.

"Yeah, give it to Al Jerzeera, he'll protect us!" Sawyer yelled.

"Al Jezeera is the network." Charlie pointed out.

"I'll keep the damn gun." No, he wouldn't! She looked at Kate, who seemed the least annoying member of the group.

"We should give it to her," she said, indicating Kate.

"Yeah, Kate should hold the gun," agreed Charlie.

"Fine with me. Well?" Boone handed the gun to Kate. _Good boy_, she silently praised her puppy. Because Boone so was.

Everyone, glaring at Boone and looking suspiciously at Shannon, eventually lay down, except for Kate, who sat on a rock alertly. "Why the hell did you do that, you idiot?" She whispered hoarsely to Boone once they had stationed themselves a little further from the group.

"Nobody was watching. Anyone could have…"

"But Boone," she sighed. Why couldn't he just understand that he was stupid? "You don't – I mean, you don't just go grabbing guns off people!"

"But someone could have – "

"And you could have stopped them? By shooting them? You don't even know what a trigger is!"

"And you do?"

"I didn't steal a fucking gun!" She raised her voice.

"Shut up," said Sawyer irritably.

"Yeah, Shannon, shut up," Boone rolled his eyes at Shannon and turned over. She sighed, and lay on her back, begging for sleep to come and claim her.

When Shannon woke up the next morning, hints of sunlight were just beginning to creep over the mountain. She noticed that she and Boone had gravitated towards each other during the night, like they were fucking magnets or something, and that their legs were sort of tangled. Shit. She looked around, hoping no one would notice. But she was the only one awake besides Kate, who was staring in the other direction. She moved her legs, hoping he wouldn't wake up. God, it was freezing! She shivered as she sat up, and her head throbbed from lack of food and sleep.

"Mm," she heard him grunt gracefully. She punched him to make him shut up. Didn't work. Instead he just woke up. God, he never did what she wanted him to do, did he?

"Where are we?" He muttered, still half asleep. She instinctively tucked a random piece of hair behind his ear that was crossing his face, making his almost- unibrow look even more like a unibrow.

"Don't you remember? We crashed on an island, found out there are monsters on said island, you stole a gun, everyone yelled at you?" She said snootily.

He was still beyond consciousness, and he muttered something about chocolate sundaes and Angelina Jolie.

"Wow Boone," she said, "Got some secret fantasies there?" She poked him. "Wake up and quit being cute."

"Oh, so you think I'm cute?"

"I think you're an idiot." Oh my god, she hated it when they accidentally flirted! And it happened all the time, too!

Kate turned around. "'Morning," she said. "Sleep okay?"

"Boone did," Shannon said loudly. "He was dreaming about Angelina Jolie, wasn't he?"

"Shut up," he said good-naturedly. Kate raised her eyebrows.

"It's too early to bicker," Sawyer said, waking. "Quit bickering, you guys are annoying as hell."

When Sayid woke up, all the fun stopped. "Come on, the other's will worry, we should get back to camp." _Camp_, not _comp!_

"Where's Charlie?" Asked Kate, as Charlie emerged from a bush.

"Just using the loo!" He exclaimed. "Good morning!"

"Why is he so full of sunshine today?" Shannon asked Boone under her breath.

"Let's go," said Sayid, and they followed him back to the beach.

Charlie walked next to Shannon. "So, where are you from?"

"L.A." she said carelessly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Ah," said Charlie, "I can imagine that." She didn't answer, and Charlie muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?" She asked suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing," said Charlie cheerfully, and caught up with Kate, whistling. What a strange, strange man this Charlie person was.

"He's a little odd," Shannon whispered to Boone, who looking angry, as usual.

"You noticed?" Charlie looked back at them, and then said something to Kate, who smiled and nodded.

Sayid wasn't standing for this middle school-esque clique, and thus, he treated them like they were in elementary school. "Stay in line, everybody! We're approaching the cliff, again!"

Shannon closed her eyes and sighed. She did _not_ like that cliff, not one bit. "It's okay," said Boone, "You'll do fine."

"I _know_ that, Boone," said Shannon.

"What was that?" Sayid suddenly said, referring to the tiny sound of Charlie kicking a pebble. "Was that the monster?"

"That was Charlie," said Kate. "He kicked a rock."

"Oh," said Sayid, glaring at Charlie, who shrugged his shoulders.

It rained that afternoon. Well, that would be an understatement. It was more like Shannon was sitting on the beach with Boone, who was helping her with one of the crosswords, when suddenly a torrential downpour decided to make its way up the beach. By the time they could run up the beach, all of the closest pieces of plane to hide under had been taken, so they were forced to go even further, to a secluded area over by a tree, and by the time they got there, they were both completely soaked, their hair sticking to their faces and their shirts dripping. They ducked under the piece of plane, and sat there, breathing heavily.

"Damn," he said after a few minutes.

"Damn," she repeated.

"Got your bag," he said, holding up her suitcase.

"Oh thank god!" She sighed in relief and reached over for it. Her fingers touched his as she took the bag from him, and for a moment, she didn't trust herself with him. So she just smiled tightly and closed her eyes, willing the beat of the rain to send her to sleep.

She dozed off, but only slightly, for a few minutes – Shannon always had trouble sleeping, Boone could just be sitting there, and then suddenly be completely unconscious. There had been many nights when she had gone into his room seeking solace, and he had been, like, dead. When she opened her eyes, sure enough, the steady beat of the rain had driven him to unconsciousness, and Shannon couldn't ignore how peaceful and angelic he looked lying there, with his hair wet and his cheeks still pink from running up the beach. She couldn't help it. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek, her hand resting on the other side of his face. He stirred, and traced his fingers over her hand, but remained somewhat asleep. She looked outside and noticed that, just as quickly as it had begun, the sun had decided to shine again.

"Boone," she whispered, tapping him on the shoulder. "The rain's stopped." He didn't wake up. She shook his shoulder more roughly. "Boone!" she said again. God, what the hell? "Wake the hell up!"

"Five more minutes, Mom," he sighed.

"You idiot! I'm not your mother!" She yelled. Thankfully, they were quite far from everyone else, so this strange girl didn't confuse anyone. "Okay, you pervert," she said, formulating an idea. "Wake up!" She slapped him on the butt. It worked.


	21. How to Deal with Boredom on an Island

**Chapter 22 – How to Deal with Boredom on an Island**

She woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night – Thursday maybe, to the sound of her father and Sabrina yelling. All she could hear was shards of conversation, bits of obscenities, fists banging on counters, cupboards slamming closed. And if that wasn't enough, she had just awoken from a dream full of looming shadows, spinning darkness, and deep red swirls of blood.

Shannon sat up, her sixteen-year-old body shivering in the cool embrace of night, clad only in a camisole and boy-shorts, and stood up, sliding open her door silently, watching her feet pat down the hallway, her toes making practically inaudible squeaks against the wood. She had memorized the pattern of the floor, and ended up standing in his doorway, moving closer to his bed, pulling back the comforter tentatively, and half asleep, he moved his pillow closer to the wall in habit and made room for her diminutive form. "Boone," she whispered, grabbing his hand, gliding up against him and shivering underneath the warm covers.

"Hmmm?" he sighed expectantly, tightening his grip.

"They're fighting. Daddy came home drunk." She whispered vulnerably into his ear, not really knowing why she insisted on sounding like such a waif.

"I know, baby, I know," he said, rubbing her lower back softly, kneading her skin tenderly. She turned to face him, just like she always did, and even in the darkness, his eyes reflected in the moonlight. She leaned towards him, and pressed her lips into his, prodding his mouth open with her tongue, and she felt his tongue against hers a few moments later. He pulled her closer, and rolled on top of her so that they had more room, and tickled her through her skimpy camisole, letting the straps slide off her shoulders as she ran her fingers through his hair. Breathing an almost silent sigh of his name, she moved her hand under his t-shirt and towards his boxers, but he pulled back. "Anna," he said.

"She doesn't care," Shannon whispered earnestly, digging her fingers into his stomach.

"I do. I don't want to cheat on her, Shan, okay?" He responded, sounding apologetic. He took her hand, trying to remove it from his vicinity, but it ended up as more of an affectionate gesture.

"Okay," she said, but ignored what he had said and started kissing him again. He tried to disagree, but as usual, he was defenseless to her plight. When he put his hands around her waist, she took his hands and tried to move them up under her shirt, moaning quietly when he caressed her cleavage, and when his foot accidentally tapped hers, she wrapped her feet around his, entangling their legs, and when her stomach started growling from another purged dinner, she tried to ignore it, intensifying her moans, trying to disguise the noise.

"Shannon," he groaned, pulling away for a second. "Are you throwing up again?"

"What?" she said. He _had_ noticed.

"You went to the bathroom after dinner tonight," he said, staring at her somberly.

"Can we talk about this later?" she whispered desperately, tugging at his shirtsleeve as she pressed her fingers into the skin on his arms.

"No, I want to talk about it now." He mustered, ignoring her as well as he could.

"I _don't_!" Her eyes filled up with tears, and he rolled off of her, discouraged, lying next to her. She rested her head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Shannon, you don't have to do this to yourself. I can feel your ribs, I mean, you're getting way too skinny." He noted seriously, so that she could feel him nodding from the crook of his neck.

"It's all I have," she sobbed, looking up at him with moist eyes, "I'll get fat!"

"No you won't, baby, you need to eat!" He let go of his embrace of her, sounding more intense about it.

"Would you quit calling me that?" She pulled away.

"Okay, _Shannon_, seriously, you have to eat! Promise me you'll try!" He raised his voice a bit.

"Why?" She said snidely, knowing perfectly well why.

"Because – because…" he started. " Isn't it obvious? People need food to live!"

"I fucking _know_ that!" She cried. Boone looked around uncomfortably.

"My mom is going to hear you, you know how bad that would be?"

"Yeah," she said, quieting her sobs. She sobbed quietly into his chest, twisting his shirt with her hands. "I'm just scared."

"You shouldn't be," he said. "You need to eat." Wiping the tears from her face, he kissed the top of her head, and then placed another comforting kiss on her neck. Comforting morphed into more kisses, sprinkled with tongues and tiny gasps and hands finding their way underneath layers of clothes.

"Boone," she whispered, noticing a lack of voices downstairs. "I'm going to go, okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow – breakfast,"

"I can take a hint, ass," she said in a nasty tone, slipping out from under the covers and straightening the straps on her shirt. "I'll eat," she promised, smirking, as she walked down the hall.

But that didn't mean she wasn't going to throw it up after.

Shannon hadn't eaten since before the crash. Colors were tainted, and everything swirled somewhat. She wasn't doing this because she was obsessed with being thin; she was doing it more as a dare to the stupid island – she was challenging a rescue crew to come before she ate again. But as their third day on the island heated up, Shannon realized that she was going to have to eat sooner or later. She sat in the middle of the beach in front of a piece of plane, Boone sitting next to her, and bit into the apple he had given her in disgust, glaring at him, as if somehow this were her fault. "I hate this place," she grumbled.

"I know," he said distractedly, watching a creepy bald guy walk by. "Do you know him?"

"Yep," she sneered. "His name is Lucifer."

"Very funny, Shannon." He said dryly.

"God, there's no one to talk to on this stupid island."

"You could try making friends with the pregnant girl."

"This isn't summer camp, Boone." She mocked. "Although if you want to take this as an opportunity to make some friends – oh right, _any_ friends, feel free." She opened her bag and started taking out a few nail polish containers.

"Are you really going to do your nails _again_?"

"Yep."

"You know people think you're an –"

"You know that doctor guy was joking when he told you about the pens! At least I know I'm stupid," she rolled her eyes.

"He was joking? Where'd you hear that?"

"Kate." She sighed. "So, Caribbean Blue or Ravishing Raspberry?"

"I don't _care_."

"I think you care, Boone." She said playfully, stretching her legs out to tickle his leg with her toes. She giggled mischievously.

"Stop that." He looked around. "People think we're siblings here."

"We _are_ siblings." She crossed her bare leg over his knees and smirked, digging her toes into his ankles.

"Shannon," he argued, but noticed that no one was paying attention to what they were doing.

"See, Boone," she murmured, leaning towards his ear. "Nobody even notices us here."

"Shannon, I want you to stop this nonsense with us, okay? I just want it to be done."

"Nonsense?" She wrinkled up her nose, squinting at the sun. "The last time I heard that was from your Grandmother." She smiled. "The one who makes you call her _Grandmother Carlyle_!" She laughed.

"I don't know why you find that so funny."

"I find it funny because we're on a fucking island and everything is amusing here, because we're all –" she whispered into his ear, choosing her words carefully, "delirious." Before he could respond, she pulled back, hugging her knees to her chest, and asked him again, "Caribbean Blue or Ravishing Raspberry?"

"Caribbean Blue." He said nonchalantly.

"Fine, I'll paint them Ravishing Raspberry, then."

"Eat the apple."

"It's gross. It's from an airplane."

"You can't _ruin_ an apple."

"Yeah, you can. Just ask Sabrina and her cardboard apples she uses as centerpieces from Pottery Barn."

"She doesn't shop at Pottery Barn."

"I know – what was it? She doesn't _believe_ in Pottery Barn. That woman is totally whacked."

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "I'm going to go."

"Go do what?" She squinted.

"I don't know. Something that doesn't involve listening to people bitching."

"I suggest you don't hang out with the doctor then. He and Kate and Sayid are like this gossipy clique – they were talking about that –" Suddenly, Shannon noticed that Boone was still wearing the necklace! "Boone, what the fuck? How did you get that necklace back?"

"I fished it out of the trash when you were complaining about Kirsten Dunst."

"You _what_?" She said, in faux fury. "You little bastard."

"It's not that big a deal, Shan." He said.

"Oh, don't you _not a big deal, Shan_ me!" He was totally eating this up!

"Sorry – I mean, you can think whatever you want to think about it, but – "

"Take it off." She said, a smile teasing the corners of her lips.

"Oh," he said in realization. "Oh, yeah, you're pretty funny there, Shannon." He rolled his eyes in sarcasm. "Fucking hilarious."

"You _love_ it," she teased, leaning towards him.

"I love it so much I'm leaving," he said, and walked off in some random direction.

On the island, minutes seemed to pass like hours and hours seemed to pass like days – she let simple tasks like painting her nails take an hour, simply to pass the time. She perused a car magazine she had found, absorbing every word, even though she wasn't interested in cars in the first place. She walked around the beach and spent a few minutes finding sticks to build a fire with, and come back thinking she had been away for hours, and was upset when she found out how little time it had actually taken. After what seemed like an eternity, night finally came – a time in which Shannon both was both dreading and anticipating. The looming shadows, the constant reminder of that _thing_ in the jungle, the melancholy darkness that enveloped them … she hated that. But she loved the promise of being able to sleep in his arms without worrying about everyday trivialities.

Trivialities were different here than they were at home. Today … trivialities were listening to a dying man, a marshal, she had heard, moaning in pain from the doctor's tent, which was really just a propped up tarp. And as Shannon walked across the beach aimlessly, she saw Boone sitting in the sand staring at the rise and fall of the tides; she kneeled behind him to try to find her sunglasses from her bag. "I wish he'd just die already," she said in a stage whisper.

"Real humane, Shannon." He said dismally.

"I mean, wouldn't it just be better for everyone if Jack put him out of his pain already?"

"Wouldn't it be better for everyone if you stopped spreading your nail polish fumes across the whole camp? We're all going to be asphyxiated." She ignored him.

"Damnit," she whined, fumbling through her bag more. "I can't find my sunglasses!"

"You had them on your head, that's why."

"Oh… shit, you're right. Damnit!" She punched into her tote bag. "Those things cost two-hundred and fifty bucks!"

"That's so stupid that you spend that much money."

"It's so stupid that you dress like a lesbian."

"Whatever, Shannon." Suddenly, they heard another excruciating moan from the guy in the tent.

"Don't you wish he would just die?"

"I wish you would just die." She frowned.

"God, Boone! Don't you think that's a little harsh? Jesus!" Sniffling, she stalked across the beach to look for her sunglasses.

About two hours later, Shannon was discouraged, having not found her Coco Chanel's, when she heard the gunshot. And the moaning of the man in the tent stopped. Shannon felt a weight in her stomach suddenly formulate. People had died in this crash – people were dying… that's why she was so confused and frightened when the moaning started up again… she didn't want to know what was going on over by the tent. And it was beginning to get cold and dark. She found herself slowly weaving around pieces of plane towards Boone, smiling in self- deprecation. She could never stay mad at him very long, could she?

"I'm cold," she said.

"Do you have any sweaters?"

"Do you think I could borrow one of yours?" Like Boone would ever reject seeing her in his clothes. What was it with guys and their clothes, anyway?

"Sure," he said under his breath, trying not to sound too pleased. "Take your pick," he opened his suitcase and let her rummage through it. She knelt down on the ground, the sand itching her knees, as he sat next to her, holding open the suitcase for her.

"Quit staring at my ass, Boone." She whispered, smiling and shaking her head.

"I'm not – "

"Just admit it!" She smirked.

"No!"

"Boone," she said seductively. She turned towards him and ran a teasing finger down his jaw and down his arm. "Tell me you were staring at my ass."

"Shannon," he cried in annoyance, looking around self-consciously. But he knew that he would rather just admit it then let her make a big scene. "I was staring at your…" he lowered his voice. " I was staring at your ass."

She smiled in victory, and selected a gray wool zip-up sweater and put it on over her white tank top. Looking around, she noticed that everyone's fires were out – it was such a clear night, strange, after such a horrendous storm, but she couldn't see any stars. "I'm still cold," she complained, hinting for him to hug her, or touch her, _anything_. He looked around insecurely before beckoning her into his lap. She climbed into his lap, and took his hands, wrapping them around her body. He rubbed his hands up her arms.

"That better?" He murmured into her ear.

"Yes," she smiled; her eyes closed, and leaned her head back into his shoulder. She felt his breathing next to her neck, and then a subtle flick of his tongue against the nape of her neck. "Oh!" She squealed in shock. He chuckled softly, pleasantly surprised by her reaction. She turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck, facing him, and fell into him, knocking him over into the sand. He laughed, but she covered his mouth, vying him to be silent so that nobody noticed. Then she slowly crawled off of him, letting her fingers linger across his neck, and when he closed his eyes – well, that was when she took off the necklace in question.

She woke up the next morning with her head on his chest; she kept her eyes closed as he wrapped his arms protectively around her, staring off somewhere. The sun was just creeping up over the mountains, she could tell even without opening her eyes, and Shannon could tell that the weather was going to be scorching that day. Squinting, she moved from his embrace and pulled off the sweater, then cuddled into him again. What was the point of getting up early, anyway? From her place on his chest, she noticed Sawyer sitting a little down the beach – Boone was looking at him, tightening his grip around Shannon. Too tired to notice, she closed her eyes again, stretching a little, and then scrunched herself up more. "Shan," he muttered.

"Yeah?" She yawned, looking around. "Damn," she realized she was _still_ on the dumb island – it hadn't been a dream! Rolling away from him, she grabbed her tote bag, still lying down, and took out her travel alarm clock. "8:01 AM." She reported.

"Is this is third or fourth day?" He asked.

"Fourth."

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." Boone rarely swore this much, so Shannon knew he was super pissed.

"My thoughts exactly."

"So… how do we take showers here?" He asked.

"Oh, gross, you haven't yet?" She frowned. "No wonder you smell like fermented eggs." Okay, so maybe she made that up…

"No, I've done the whole ocean water thing, but like, a _clean_ shower."

"Oh yeah, a couple plumbers from PG +E installed ten yesterday. Didn't you hear?"

"PG +E is a telephone company."

"Oh." She said, tossing her bag into his empty hands. "Hold this."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Apparently not. Do you think I should wear –"?

"Does it matter? You'll just choose the opposite, anyway."

"I like to piss you off."

"I had _no_ idea." He glared at her. "Is that what Sydney was?"

"No," she sighed. "No, god damnit!" She cried, grabbing her bag and sitting down far away from him in the middle of the beach. A few minutes later, tired of moping aimlessly, she decided to mope while reading that dumb car magazine again. When she finished perusing it again, she threw it into the sand. This island was so fucking boring!

When she heard him trudging up the beach behind her, she was about to yell, "Piss off!" when a pair of shiny black Coco Chanel sunglasses landed in her lap. He kept walking, smiling a half-smile as she smiled a real, genuine smile. Since everything on this dumb island was either a hundred times better or a hundred times worse, and this was a hundred times better, she decided to take a little chance. "Boone!" She ran after him (okay, traipsed, damn sand), putting the glasses on her head. "Come here." She said when she caught up with him.

"Um. I am here."

"No, follow me." She walked along the beach until she could hardly breathe, and he followed, muttering sighs of exhaustion and confusion as he did so. When they were far away enough (probably about 5000 miles away, she was so damn tired!), she stood under three trees, where she was convinced they would be well hidden enough. "You want me," she said.

"And?" She found it adorable that he didn't even try to deny it. So she smiled crookedly and approached him more. "That was kind of random," he said uncomfortably.

"Not really," she decided. "Because you _always_ want me, don't you?" He sighed. She got closer to him, licking her finger and wiping away some dirt of his cheek. "Dirty boy," she whispered. "Dirty, dirty, dirty…" She wrapped her hands around his neck, leading him towards the tree. She pressed him into it, and ran her hands down his arms. "Guess what I stole from Sawyer's tent yesterday?" She murmured into his neck, creeping her hands down his torso.

"Oh god," he said, partially in reaction to her hands, partially in reaction to what she had just said.

"I have one, you know," she continued. "In my pocket… why don't you get it out for me, huh, baby?" He ignored what she had said, and just looked at the smirk on her face and pressed his lips into hers.

"You win." He said in a distressed tone.

_Yay! Bout of hot island sex number 1, coming your way! And that's one of hopefully, many. Um, I know this chapter wasn't so great – I'll put more stuff about the others on the island in the next chapter after… hehehehehe! Also, tell me if you liked the flashback-type thing. Anyway, review, and I'm not afraid to grovel. Please, please, please, please, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease! _


	22. Taking Advantage of the Island

_11/9 - Okay, basically I cut this chapter in half, so that's why it seems weird._

**Chapter 23 - Taking Advantage of the Island**

The kiss wasn't innocent for long. Within seconds of its initiation, she couldn't stop her tongue from sliding over his slightly chapped lips and into his mouth, and couldn't ignore the tingles running down her back when he responded to her tongue by pressing his own into hers. Then it was her fingernails scratching up and down his back, his hands straying towards her chest. She slowly crept her fingers down towards his boxers and unbuttoned his pants as he let out a sigh of anticipation. "Shannon…" he said, grabbing her hand, but she pushed it away. " Shannon," he repeated.

"Yeah, what?" She answered impatiently, getting ready to unzip his fly, her fingers hovering over the zipper.

"Don't you think that we shouldn't be –" But he couldn't finish his sentence, because Shannon had just tugged on his zipper so hard that she could feel hints of his erection against her hand.

"What were you saying?" she said smugly, kissing his neck, his chin, and then his lips. He pulled back.

"Oh – " she kissed him again, tickling his lips with her tongue, "It doesn't –"

"Yeah?" She said, flicking her tongue against his tongue.

"Doesn't matter," he finished. Shannon pulled back.

"You know what?" she said, "I'm getting really fucking sick of me always having to seduce _you_. Why don't you like, you know –" She rolled her eyes. That was when he decided to take off his shirt, and then tugged on the sides of her tank top as she pulled it over her head.

"You want me to seduce _you_?" He whispered in her ear, his thumbs stroking her hipbone. She giggled, suddenly shy.

"Yes…" she said, a hitch in her breath.

"Really?" He murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist and slowly moving them up towards her bra.

"Uh huh," she answered, trying to keep her cool – she couldn't stand how slow he was going!

"You sure?" He traced his pinky over the seam of her bra, and then ran his fingers up and down the straps.

"Boone!" She cried. "Would you hurry up?"

He was enjoying this, damn him. His fingers dawdled at her cleavage, putting pressure on one of the cups of her bra. "Shit, Boone, just feel me up already!" She whined, totally forgetting her act.

"Already?"

"Yes, _already_!" She made a strange whiny noise of anticipation.

"Well, that was attractive, Shannon. Either acts like you're four years old or admit that I turn you on!"

"Well, look who's Mister Cocky now! Oh, stop being so immature, Boone – you're acting like that kid in my Freshman math class who started guffawing whenever anything equaled 69!" He laughed.

"Well, aren't you cute?" God, who was this, and what had he done with the pathetic puppy that was Boone?

"Yes. I'm very cute," she wrapped her arms around him, slouching a little so she could look up at him. "Kiss me."

He didn't need telling twice. His mouth delved into hers, his tongue taking full advantage of her mouth, exploring it with such intensity she could hardly breathe. He pulled back for a second to breathe, and then she finally felt his hands creeping up her bra. They sunk into the sand, him lying on top of her, as he kissed her neck, then her collarbone, then deeper and deeper into her cleavage until he unfastened the hook on the back of her bra to further accommodate himself. He kissed her again, with so much fervor it probably passed as a bite to her chest, and she shivered. But she wasn't going to let him win, so she passed her hands between his thighs again, pressing and touching and squeezing until he practically screamed, "Jesus, Shannon, stop!"

"You really want me to stop?" She rolled on top of him, smiling spitefully.

"Yeah…" he smiled back, just as cruelly, positioning himself on top of her. She rolled over again; she wanted to be on top, god damnit! He moved a little, trying to hoist himself over her again, but she decided that if she talked dirty to him, he might just let her stay.

"You're really, really hard, Boonie." She smirked.

"Don't call me –" he rolled on top of her, "Boonie."

"Don't call me –" Before she could finish her sentence, he was kissing her again, his lips crashed into hers, his tongue exploring her mouth as he started to shrug off his pants. She leaned back for a moment to remove her own shorts, and revolved herself so that she was above him. In response, he licked up and down her chest, much to her delight and astonishment. "Boone!" she moaned, "You are such a kinky –" she caught her breath, "little – " She scrunched up her nose as he moved his hands lower and lower, teasing the seams of her underwear, "bastard…. Oh, shit, Boone." And that was when she forgot that he had once again won the "who's going to be on top" battle.

Their feet and legs intertwined, as she tugged impatiently on his boxers, and they remembered what was in the pocket of Shannon's shorts, and once again, their patience was tested. It was rather disgusting, she thought, how they couldn't keep their hands off of each other – here they were, rolling around in the fucking sand! "Shannon," he said, pulling back. "We shouldn't be –"

"We're not in L.A. yet, right?" She whined in his ear, tugging at it with her teeth. "Hmmm?"

"No, I guess not, but –"

"Do me now?" She whispered vulnerably. He inhaled deeply, looking a little troubled. "Come on, please…" But what she was begging for was going to be even better than she was expecting. As he pressed his hips into hers, in and out, up and down, she was groveling with him, like she always did – she could control her emotions a lot better than he could in most situations, but during sex, she totally let her guard down. She couldn't help it. "Harder," she'd whisper, or "Deeper," squealing his name in complete agony.

She compressed their bodies, pushing up against him with as much force as her body would give her. He stayed there for a few moments, mumbling _I love you's _until finally, the aching in their guts was just too much to take, and he fell beside her, panting and sweating. She closed her eyes, and despite the fact that it was 100 friggin' degrees, and she was lying in the middle of a fucking island, all she could do was squint from the sun's brightness and recover, whispering nothings about how great it had been. She was going to have to work on keeping her guard up better. But she could save that for later.

"Again." She sighed.

After he happily obliged (more than once), they snuck back to camp, taking a few detours along the way to slip in a few greedy kisses. There was something quite rewarding about having no concept of time on this island – it was probably the only thing she liked at all about it. But after pushing him into the sand for the third (or was it fourth) time, he managed to resist her and they walked the rest of the distance in irritated silence as she glared at him sideways the entire way. They tried to arrive back as subtly as possible, and nobody really seemed to notice their absence except Jack, who was looking at them grimly as she arrived about ten steps ahead of him.

"We got lost!" she exclaimed dramatically.

Jack shook his head. "We can't have people wandering off. You all saw what was in the jungle on our first night. We have to travel in packs, okay?" Shannon opened her mouth to argue, but Boone cut her off.

"Okay," he said. "Sorry."

As the sun set that night, Shannon and Boone shared a fire with Claire and the fat guy, Hurley. This was just like high school, and they were the dork table.

"So," said Hurley, "have we met?"

"I don't think so," said Boone. "I'm Boone, and this is Shannon." Shannon rolled her eyes and looked away. "She's a little challenged in the manners area. Guess she didn't grow out of that in Kindergarten, huh?"

"You know what!" She snapped. "Shut the hell up! You don't know what I'm thinking!"

"I didn't say I did, I said I –"

"Arians," said Claire calmly, smiling serenely. They looked at her, confused. "She's an Aries. You're a Scorpio," she said to Boone, "And you're a Leo."

"How did you know that?" Boone said suspiciously.

"I can tell."

"Wait, so you believe in all that astrology stuff?" Hurley asked.

"Everyone thinks it's crap, but I think it's –"

"No, it's cool." Said Boone, "I mean, that you guessed that."

"Thanks," said Claire.

"My mom likes Tarot cards," said Hurley. Shannon rolled her eyes. Today, Tarot cards, tomorrow, Star Trek nerds. She so wasn't going to give in to that.

"Boone is a Star Trek nerd," she said, smirking.

"Shut up," he muttered, nudging her in the arm. She rolled her eyes in frustration again.

"You shut up." Claire and Hurley looked at them uncomfortably.

"So, are you guys like, going out or something?" Asked Hurley.

"No!" she sighed. "I mean, no," she said in a normal tone. "My idiot brother."

"My sister, the bitch."

"Oh, _charming_. Really charming!" She spat. "What the hell am I eating?" She looked down at a petrified looking slab of airplane chicken. "You want this?" She nodded to Hurley.

"Oh no," Boone whispered under his breath as Hurley's face turned into a vivid magenta.

"Did you ask me that… because? I'm _large_?" He said evenly.

"Um," she answered. "No!"

"Why do you keep rolling your eyes like that, like we're all below you?"

"What is it any of your business?"

"Look, I'm not an idiot! I get that I'm not the _nicest _looking guy, and maybe you and your model boyfriend don't want to be seen around people who aren't gorgeous! You know how I feel here? Look at everyone! Why is it that everyone on this island is so damn attractive? I mean – Kate, Claire, you, that asshole, even the Korean guy! Just because of my looks doesn't mean you have to be judgmental! I mean, what's wrong with you?" Just then, the smoke from the fire blew towards Shannon.

She breathed. "I'm not… I mean," she hiccupped. Oh no… not an attack, not now!

"Yeah, what?" Hurley asked dangerously.

"Shannon, are you o – " Boone started.

"He's _not_…" she wheezed. "He's not my boyfriend."

"What the hell is going on?" Hurley asked.

"Are you okay?" Asked Claire.

"I need to go!" She proclaimed, gasping, and walking down the beach quickly. Boone followed her.

"Shannon, do you want me to get your inhalers for you? Do you want to wait here? Shannon?"

She stopped, swaying from side to side a little. "I can't breathe…" she panted. "I… help…"

"Okay, Shannon," he said, putting his hands on each of her shoulders. "Try to breathe, okay? I'll get your inhalers, okay? Wait here."

"Boone," she gasped, "Don't leave me…" With one final wheeze, she keeled onto the ground and collapsed into the sand.

"Shan," he said. "Baby…" he pleaded, as if him groveling would help her breathe. He sat down on his knees and took her hands. "I just need to run right over there, okay?" She nodded weakly and he disappeared from her sight. Everything was swirling around her, and each tiny breath was more difficult to breathe, as she summoned, _prayed_ for air to reach her lungs. Her eyes were beginning to flutter shut, her brain was starting to shut down, when he arrived with the inhaler clutched in her hand. Her fingers shook as she took it in her hand, not knowing what to do with it in her delirium. He gently grabbed it and guided it towards her lips. She took 3 deep breaths, and her breathing began to steady. "_Shhhhh_," he stroked her back slowly. "Just breathe," he whispered. She inhaled, but the air was still difficult to obtain, so she took another breath from the inhaler.

"I think I'm…" she coughed. "I think I'm good now…"

"Shhhhh, just relax, okay, sweetheart?" She smiled; unable to make a comment about all the pet names he was giving her. "Want me to go get you something to drink?" She shook her head. "You sure?" She grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer, and nodded. After a few minutes of staring at each other, breathing in the same rhythm, she tried to stand up. It was too soon for that, though, so she let Boone scoop her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and carry her over his shoulder to where they had their luggage set up.

"Dude," she heard Hurley say distantly. "What just happened?" He looked quizzically at the practically unconscious Shannon in his arms. "She okay?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"What happened?"

"Asthma. Don't tell anyone though," Boone whispered.

"Why?"

"She's always been embarrassed about it. I don't know why," he said. She sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck and hoisting herself higher up on him, her eyes closed and her head pressed into his neck, thinking Hurley was gone. "D'you think you can walk now?" He said to her.

"Nuh uh," she murmured sleepily. "Wanna go to bed now."

"I think you should get something to drink first. You need some water."

"I wanna go to bed with you now." She said.

"Should I get her some water?" Hurley said in panic. _Oh shit, he was still there_!

"I think I can walk – think I can walk now," she said to Boone.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," she answered a little rudely. He set her on the ground, where she wobbled a bit, but then was able to stand properly. She let go of his arm, looking at Hurley ashamedly. "Sorry," she said to him. Hurley tilted his head at her.

"It's alright, I'm used to it. Sorry if I caused you to…" He mimed breathing. "See you," he said, waddling off towards the fires.

After walking very slowly to where their bags were, Boone gave Shannon a bottle of water and his sweater to wear again, and lay down next to her, wrapping his arms around her. There were a few others who were already going to sleep, but they were still one of the first ones. She nuzzled into him. "Thanks for saving me," she turned towards him, creeping her fingers up his arm. He smiled, as she turned away from him, and he draped his arms over her shoulders, warming her up in the cool air. She drifted off, and she knew that every breath she took, every little move she made, Boone was taking notice.


	23. Pretty Fishy

_11/9/05 - this is just the second half of the unedited chapter 23_

******Chapter 23 - Pretty Fishy**

Shannon was sleeping as peacefully as was possible on a friggin' beach when suddenly, she heard the sound of a dog barking and opened her eyes to see a wet, scratchy tongue in her face. She lifted her head blearily as the dog barked.

"Sorry," said a black man who Shannon had seen before. "Hey, sorry, sorry." He tried to lead the dog away from her and Boone.

"What the hell…" she murmured into Boone's chest, as she heard other people waking up.

"What's that sound?" He said, sitting up. "Listen." She heard the sound of something fumbling through the plane. It snarled.

"What is it?" She asked in panic.

"I don't know," he stood up, following the group that had formed around Jack. She heard more sounds of rummaging and growling, and tightened the sweater around her shoulders. What was this thing? Was it what they had heard in the jungle a few nights before?

"What is it?" Kate's voice echoed Shannon's thoughts.

"Something's in there," she heard Claire say.

"Everything in there's dead." Said a voice she thought she recognized as Sayid's.

"Sawyer." Jack immediately concluded, but he was wrong.

"Right behind you, jackass." Sawyer said.

Shannon watched, shivering in fright, as Jack took out a flashlight and approached the pile of wreckage way too slowly for Shannon's liking. Sawyer followed behind him. She heard their muffled voices, and then Jack commanding, "Run!" Kate, Sawyer, Charlie, and Jack dashed out of the plane, and Boone helped her up as they ran as well. Three large, grunting creatures were following, but within a few seconds, it was clear that they had ran into the forest and that their danger was no longer apparent.

"They're gone," Sayid proclaimed, as if they all didn't have eyes.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Charlie exclaimed.

"Boars." She heard someone say.

"Boars," she echoed faintly. Boars were like pigs, right? And kind of like that thing that Pumba was in the Lion King, right?

"They're like big, dangerous wild pig things," Boone supplied to her.

"I know what a fucking boar is," she lied nervously. "Are they going to come back?"

Jack and some others walked towards the "infirmary tent." This really was like summer camp.

"What are we supposed to do?" Claire asked loudly to anyone who would answer.

"I guess just go back to sleep," Boone said uncertainly. "I dunno."

"Are they going to come back?" She asked, too scared to bitch to him that Claire hadn't been talking to him.

"I dunno," said Hurley. "The _ace gang_ ditched us."

Everyone slowly went back to where they had been before, summoning sleep but not being rewarded. Just what else was on this island?

When she woke up the next morning, Boone wasn't there – he was probably taking part in some humanitarian effort of sorting people's spandex from their granny panties for all she knew. She walked around aimlessly for a few minutes, when she heard the sounds of Sawyer and… Hurley? Punching each other. What was it with Sawyer and his inevitable need to always be fighting? A big group formed around them, but nobody really made an effort to stop it except self- proclaimed King Jack, who said, "Guys, knock it off!"

"Stay out of this, Metro." Sawyer eloquently nicknamed Jack. If Jack was metro, what was Boone? Jack and Sayid pushed Hurley and Sawyer away from each other, and Jack crossed his arms and asked them what was going on.

"Jethro here is hoarding the last of the peanuts!" Boone looked back at Shannon and rolled his eyes. This was all about _peanuts_?

"My own stash! I found it in there!"

"What about the rest of the food?" Jack asked in a no-duh manner.

"There is so more food." Hurley said, his words sending an empty feeling through Shannon's stomach. "We sort of… ate it all."

"_What_?" She asked. And he had gotten pissed at her for calling him fat! Served him right, when he was the one whoring the food! Everyone looked at each other. What the fuck were they going to do?

"Okay everybody, just calm down," Jack commanded.

"We can find food. There are plenty of things on this island we can use for sustenance." Sayid earnestly commanded, pointing at everyone dramatically. And eat what? Polar bears?

Sawyer sat down on a plane seat and said mockingly, "And exactly how are we going to find this sustenance?" His question was answered when a knife landed right next to his face. Shannon had no idea where it had come from until the bald guy appeared.

"We hunt." He said calmly. Everyone looked at him in awe as Jack handed him back his knife.

"How'd you get that?" Kate asked breathlessly.

"Checked it."

"Well, you either have very good aim or very bad aim, Mr…"

"Locke. His name is Locke." The black guy said, looking suspiciously at him.

"Okay, Mr. Locke, what is it we're hunting?" Jack asked condescendingly.

Locke launched into an impressive lecture. " We know there are wild boar on the island. Razorbacks, by the look of them. The one's that came into the camp last night were piglets, 100, 150 pounds each." Piglets? " Which means that there's a mother nearby. A 250 pound rat, with scimitar-like tusks, and a surly disposition, who'd love nothing more than to eviscerate anything that comes near. Boar's usual mode of attack is to circle around and charge from behind so I figure it'll take at least three of us to distract her long enough for me to flank one of the piglets, pin it, and slit it's throat." Oh my god, he really was Lucifer? How the hell did he know all this? Everyone looked at him in slight fear, but Boone was looking at him like he was God. Whatever.

People made some comments, but Shannon wasn't listening. Locke opened a gigantic case, and in it were about 400 knifes.

"Who is this guy?" Hurley said in awe. Some people were beginning to talk, figuring out who was going to go and when. Eventually, everyone milled about and went back to what they had been doing before witnessing the fight with Hurley and Sawyer.

"That woman is still sitting there." Boone knelt in front of Shannon, who was trying to think of a Japanese dog whose name began with _a_. She didn't know who he was talking about, and frankly, she didn't care.

"Mmm hmmm," she answered.

"Her husband was on the plane." How did he know this?

"Right."

"Are you even listening to me?" Never. She looked up and noticed that he was looking a little weathered, not his usual clean-shaven self. He looked pissed off, but what else was new?

"What's a four letter word for _I don't care_?" She answered savagely. Boone leaned back, looking like he could really use someone else to talk to.

"I just think someone should go talk to her." She looked over to see the black woman who had watched them fight in queue to board the plane. She was sitting with her legs crossed and staring at the sky. And he was telling her this because…

"I nominate you, Captain America. You just can't help yourself, can you?" And to think that 24 hours ago they had been… anyway.

"Yeah, well, at least you don't have to worry about starving with me taking care of you."

"I'm not going to starve," she said absently. Everything would manage to work itself out. It always (usually) did.

"Right, what are you going to eat?" He challenged, standing up and walking towards the waves.

"The ocean's full of fish," she shrugged. He stepped into the water and got his hands wet, washing his hands in the surf and then his face. She smiled, trying not to look too, uh… interested.

"I hate to break it to you, but the ocean's not going to take your Gold Card." It was an American Express card, and of course she knew that! What kind of idiot did he think she was?

"You really don't think I can catch a fish?" He smirked. Apparently not. Oh, she was so going to prove him wrong, little fucker.

"Not really." He answered.

"I can catch a fish," she said.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he responded.

"Boone, come here." She said.

"_Oh no_," he said in his signature what-are-you-going-to-do-to-me-now look.

"Your hair is screwed up from the friggin' salt water," she said as she peeled away a stray piece of hair from his forehead and tucked it behind his ear. "I can _so_ catch a fish," she said. She was already winning. Now who was going to do it for her?

"Hi," she said, smiling, a few minutes later to Charlie, who, for some reason, was on his hands and knees like a mouse. Maybe he was praying or something, the weirdo.

"Hi," he said, looking uncomfortable. "Shannon, right?"

"Yeah. Are you doing anything?"

"Me? No I just," he stood up. "What are _you_ doing?"

"I was just going to go for a walk. You want to come?" She said in a faux-sweet voice, trying to sound like a nervous girl with a crush. And she would have a crush on a 4-foot tall hobbit because…?

He raised his eyebrows, looking ugly and smitten. "Yeah," he said. "Yes, sure."

She rolled her eyes, walking down the beach, and he followed. "Can I ask you something?" She said shyly.

"Oh, I wondered when this was going to come up. Yes, I'm the bass guitarist in D – " Whatever.

"Yeah, great, do you know anything about fishing?"

"What?" He looked surprised. "What? Fishing? My granddad used to take me out, taught me everything he knows." She smiled, pretending to be interested. "Everything he knew, he's dead now, God rest his soul." She tried to look sympathetic slash surprised. Yeah, I'm like a . . . I'm a fishing fiend. I mean England's an island so I just throw it in and ...fish." He finished lamely, clearly making this up. She was so going to show Boone who was boss!

"Good." She said, smiling flirtatiously at him.

"Do you want me to get you one?"

"Oh yeah, yes, sure!" She exclaimed. "Thank you so much, Charlie! It's just that… I really don't like boar, and, you know…"

He smiled. "Oh, it's fine. I'll get you a fish by the end of the day, definitely!"

Shannon had nothing better to do, so she changed into another swimsuit, the pale blue one, and lay in the sun and tanned some more. She wondered what she was going to do when she had to wax her legs again – she would have to go back to shaving, which was annoying. She didn't know how long she had been there when it started to get windy, so she decided to put her clothes back on and hang her swimsuit on a pole to dry. Boone walked up to her from a group and said, "I don't think the hunt went very well. The bald guy never came back."

"Wait, they didn't bring back any food at all?" She said, only half listening.

" Did you hear what I just said? Somebody might have died out there!"

"Well, we're all going to die if somebody doesn't do something." Obviously he didn't realize that she was saying this out of fear, not selfishness.

Suddenly, Charlie appeared, looking giddy, and plunged a pole into the sand. "There you are. As promised, you and I will be dining of fresh catch of the day." He held up the fish, and Shannon scampered over and took it from him. She was surprisingly not squeamish when it came to fish. She squealed and gave the fish to Boone is victory, shoving the fish into his chest and wiping her fingers on his shirt. He shook his head.

"I hope you don't mind al fresco. It was no problem. You know what, that one actually gave me a hell of a tussle, but you have to get inside the mind of the fish, you know." But she wasn't listening. She was looking at Boone, whose expression was clouding with annoyance.

"I don't believe you," he said, shaking his head at her.

"I got it in the shallows, I cornered it!" Charlie responded, thinking Boone was talking to him.

"What's the matter? Can't stand to see me fending for myself?" She asked him, smirking. Boone put his hand on Charlie's shoulder, much to both of their confusion.

"I'm sorry, seriously." He said, apologizing for her behavior.

"No, it's okay," said Charlie, looking alienated.

"What are you apologizing to him for?"

"For you. For using him, just like you use everyone else!"

"Oh," she rolled her eyes in disbelief, "_Whatever!"_ But he wasn't backing down. He shoved the fish in her face, practically suffocating her with the reek of that dumb fish.

"Somewhere in that twisted little brain, you think this proves that you can take care of yourself," he said angrily. He started walking off. She followed him, ignoring Charlie's sad expression.

"I told you I'd catch a fish, didn't I?" She asked him.

"That's low Shannon, even for you!"

"Oh, go rescue a baby bird or something!" She yelled.

"You know what, Shannon?" He lowered his voice in anger. "I don't get you. I mean, I know you're using him, I know you're using me, but I thought it was –"

"Oh. Oh. I get it now, this is about _you_! If I was using you, I would have asked you to catch the – "

"You are so twisted!" He exclaimed. "What the hell was that?"

"The fish?"

"No, quit looking at everything from such a shallow perspective!" Suddenly it clicked.

"You're still mad at me about Sydney?" She whispered.

"I think I'll always be mad at you about Sydney, Shannon. But I thought maybe you'd changed. Obviously, I was wrong!"

"Look," she said, frazzled. "I don't know what you thought that was, but I said I was sorry about the money thing, and –" She was dangerously close to tears. "I don't know, I –"

"You _never_ said you were sorry about the money thing! You're never sorry about anything!"

"I _am _sorry! Okay! I don't know, all I know is that –" She cut herself off. All she knew was that she was madly in love with him. "I don't know what I know." She sighed, crying, and walked away from him.

"Well, you let me know when you figure it out!" He yelled after her. She sat down somewhere, only to be joined by Claire a few minutes later.

"I'm doing a sort of memorial service tonight before they burn the fuselage." She said.

"They're burning the fuselage?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow morning. Didn't you know?"

"Nobody tells me anything," she said, hugging her knees to her chest.

"I heard you and your brother fighting earlier. Do you guys fight a lot?"

"Yeah," she answered, guarded.

"Okay, don't want to talk about it? That's fine." She looked down at a bunch of papers she was holding. "I don't know why I volunteered to do this. I hate talking in front of people. And it's not like I knew them… all I can say is what's written on their passports, and I have a couple of letters. Isn't it terrible how many people were killed?"

"Yeah," she answered.

"Well, I'm going to go. I have to figure out what on earth I'm going to say. We're pretty lucky to be alive, aren't we?" She said, standing up and waddling off as well as her fragile, pregnant body would let her. Shannon wondered what it be like to be pregnant. It would totally suck, she decided. And Shannon hated kids, never mind that she had been one fairly recently. But lots of things had changed when she stopped being a child and started being a teenager. And sometimes she longed for the simplicity she had lived in when she was younger.

Later that night, everyone stood around Claire, who was talking about the people whose bodies were going to be burned. Boone and Hurley each held a flaming stick so that Claire could read. She wasn't paying much attention to what she was saying, but she was looking at Boone, who still looked upset. Not that ever looked anything but upset – he wasn't much of a smiler, was he? He looked up at her for a second as Claire said something about someone who wore contact lenses. He glowered, but she smiled meekly and mouthed, "Sorry." He just looked down.

"…Steve and Kirsten, I don't know their last name, but they were really in love and were going to be married. At least, wherever they are now, they're not alone…" Claire continued. "…Video store receipt lists her overdue charges for Willie Wonka and Little Princess. Looks like he hadn't traveled much . . . at least as far as I can tell from his passport."

After she finished speaking, Shannon approached Boone. "I'm sorry," she told him.

"Yeah, sure," he shook his head, turning away. She grabbed his arm.

"You know, I didn't like, seduce what's-his-name or anything," she promised.

"It's _Charlie_, he spent all day trying to catch a fish just for you! He could have been doing anything else, but _no_, you charmed him, so he decided to – "

"Look, you know what? Whatever. If you don't want to accept my apo –"

"You're only apologizing because you're scared of sleeping alone!" He exclaimed.

She looked down. He really had got it right on the dot. "I just don't understand what I did wrong."

"You tricked another guy, lured him in just like you did with me."

"It's not that simple with you and me and you know it," she hissed.

He looked at her, defeated. "Look, I don't know. You're pissing me off. How do you want this fish cooked?" She smiled.

"Aren't you supposed to like, clean it, and then wrap it in seaweed or something?" She asked.

"Maybe if you had made out with him he would have already cleaned it for you."

"Oh, shut –"

"Maybe if you had given him head he would have cooked it for you, too."

"You know what?" She cried, "You're the one at fault here! You're the one who comes off looking like a jerk!"

He rolled his eyes, looking exhausted. "Okay Shannon," he apologized just because he was too lazy to do anything else. "Sorry, you're right, I shouldn't have said that."

"Let's go cook this fish," she said, accepting his apology. "Maybe we can fry it!"

"You need a saucepan to do that, Shannon."

"Oh," she answered. "Right, okay, we can just do the seaweed thing. You want to clean it?"

"No," he said. "You do it."

"I am not touching that thing if you – " They walked down the beach towards one of the fires, and as she sat down, he took the fish from her and cleaned it for her.

"_Thank _you," she told him, tentatively trying a bite of the fish. He looked like those words were exactly what he had needed.


	24. Oceans, Water, and Tears

**Chapter 24 - Oceans, water, and Tears**

"Boone," she whispered as she woke up the next morning. But there was no answer. She opened her eyes to see a void where Boone's body had been the night before. Now all that was there was his wrinkled t-shirt. Where the hell was he?

She stood up and put her hair into a quick ponytail, and walked down the beach to see if she could find him. She heard someone shrieking, which made her even more anxious. As she continued walking down the beach, she saw a group of frantic people standing in front of the water. "What's going on?" She asked Charlie breathlessly.

"I heard screaming, there's someone out there! Jack went to go rescue them!" He answered, anxiously tapping his chipped, black nails against his knee.

"Who is it?" She thought, her mind instantly jumping to Boone, the only person who would be stupid enough to go swimming in the ocean on Craphole Island. "Are they okay?"

"I don't know," said Charlie nervously, tapping his fingernails on his hand. She watched restlessly as the waves went in and out, and Jack swam further and further away. Finally, he swam closer, holding Boone to his side. Half of her mind wanted to chastise his for his stupidity, but the other half was just happy to see that he was alive. Kate and Sayid helped him walk, but Jack was swimming back. "There's someone else still out there," he gasped.

"Boone!" She called, approaching him, ignoring Kate and Sayid, who were holding him up. "What the hell were you – what's going on?"

"I…" he said, out of breath, "I woke up and… I saw this woman drowning… so, I thought I'd… try to…" Oh great, his stupid wannabe lifeguard complex.

"And then you ended up practically drowning?" She tried to sound spiteful, but her tone came out more as mildly worried.

"I don't think she's going to make it," he gestured towards the ocean. "It's all my fault." Shannon took Sayid's place and walked up the beach with him and Kate.

"No, you were just trying to save her. It's hard to swim in the ocean," Kate said.

"But I'm a –"

"Boone, would you quit with the lifeguard stuff, okay? You were a crappy lifeguard and it was like, for a three foot deep pool!" He gave her a dirty look.

"Someone's probably going to die, and all you can do is insult me!" He wheezed. Kate looked at Shannon somberly, agreeing.

They turned as they heard Jack's rasping, "She's gone. I'm sorry."

"Oh my god," Kate said, letting go of Boone and running towards Jack. Boone sat down in the sand.

"Look –" Shannon started.

"Just go away, Shannon, I don't feel like dealing with you right now."

"Dealing with me?" She repeated, incredulous.

"See, that's exactly what I mean. Just go away." She gave him one last look and then changed her clothes. They were soaked with ocean water from his little excursion, anyway. As she put on a clean shirt, she slapped off some bugs off of her arms, and thought of how much bugs adored Boone, and how he was always complaining about needed more bug spray, and the deal she had made with Sawyer the day before.

She traipsed through the sand towards him, sitting there, looking all smug as he read a magazine.

"Have you got it or what?"

"You're in my lightsticks." He smiled even more smugly. What the hell was he talking about?

"Lightsticks? What the hell is that?" She spat.

"Light, comma, sticks. As in those legs of yours," he smirked, ostentatiously looking up and down her legs, stopping to smile as his eyes hit mid-thigh. Oh god, the last thing she needed was some southern pervert checking her out. It was times like this she wished that half her wardrobe wasn't made up of tiny little flippy skirts.

"Look, while I really love my new nickname, and I think it's really sweet. . ." She started, rolling her eyes.

"Calm down. I got your damn stuff." He held up the bottle of bug spray, smiling cheekily like he was advertising it. She grabbed it, reading the label.

"It'll keep off sand fleas?" The sand fleas were the ones that especially liked Boone.

"You bet. It even has aloe," he finished sarcastically.

"How much?"

"Your money's no good here," he smiled suggestively. Oh _god_…

"Then what the hell do you want?" She asked unnecessarily. Like she would really have sex on an island! "If you really think I'm going to…" she said.

"Five grand." For bug spray? What the fuck?

"I thought you said my money's no good here."

"I was _negotiating_," He said, as if she had never head that word before. "But I could take an IOU. Something tells me you're good…" She contorted her face into a prizewinning scowl. "At it." He finished. You know what? Screw the bug spray, let Boone manhandle the friggin' insects himself. She threw the container at Sawyer's head. Pervert.

She found Boone sitting on the beach, staring at the ocean dejectedly, as he had been when she had left him about an hour before. "Still brooding?" She asked, sitting down next to him. He sighed.

"It's all my fucking fault." She put her arm around him in what she thought was a friendly gesture. But as usual, it turned out to be purely sensual. "Not right now, Shannon," he said between clenched teeth.

"I wasn't –"

"You –"

"Shut up, I was trying to make you feel better, okay? God!"

They sat there for a few minutes, staring at the tides. "I'm not mad at you," he said.

"Fooled me," she said stubbornly.

"I'm going to tell Jack he shouldn't have saved me."

"Why the hell would you do that?" She asked.

"Because he shouldn't have."

"What else would you have done?"

"I can swim."

"Put your clothes on," she said, like she had said that morning in the hotel. She instantly regretted her word choice. "Like, a shirt. You're really pale, you're going to get all –" She scrunched up her nose, "Pink."

"Why don't _you_ put some clothes on?"

"I am wearing clothes." She answered, thinking that she knew where this conversation was going to go

"If you don't want Sawyer making _offers_ to you, why don't you stop dressing like a total slut?"

"I thought you said there were more _important_ things to do than insult each other!" He sighed. "I'm not really mad at you," she said, like he had minutes before.

"I know."

"Good," she said, leaning over to kiss his neck (as subtly as possible). She let her lips linger a little longer, even daring to let her tongue skim over his ear.

"Don't give me a hickey, Shannon, please." She thought it was funny that he just let her do whatever she wanted to his body whenever she wanted.

"Why?" She whined, her lips hovering over his ear.

"Um, because." He said obviously. She ignored him, skimming her tongue along his earlobe slowly.

"Well then put on a fucking shirt, okay?" She mumbled in between kisses. Damnit, damnit, damnit, she just blew her cover!

He smiled. "That's why? You want me to put on a shirt so that you can resist me better?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she said as flatly as possible. But that would have been easier if she hadn't been licking his ear.

"Sawyer behind you," he said suddenly. "Stop." She pulled back.

Sawyer looked at them in confusion, holding out the bottle of bug spray. "Still want this?" He asked.

"Yeah, but I'm not –" she turned around.

"Don't worry, Sticks, free of charge." He smiled.

"Don't take it," Boone said to her, still looking at the ocean, as if someone was going to pop out of it. "You don't want to have to owe anything to him."

"What, you're her lawyer _too_?" There was something disturbing about the way he said _too_.

"I'll take it," she said, just to piss him off. "Thanks." He handed her the spray and walked away, still smirking. "So guess what, Boonie?"

"_What_?" He said tiredly, annoyed by her stupid nickname.

"No more sand fleas for you," She dropped the bug spray in his lap.

"You got that for me?"

"I know, I shouldn't have," She said flirtatiously. "But then again, you shouldn't have made yourself look like a total idiot in front of everyone on this island."

"That woman died, Shannon."

"I _know_, no thanks to you!"

"Isn't it interesting," he mused, "That by trying to save someone, I was just making everything worse."

"I guess." She said skeptically. "Here's your shirt," she hinted, handing a shirt to him, wrinkled up in a ball. He put it on.

"I can't believe that Jack saved me instead of her! I mean, I can swim! I could have made it back!" He cried, his voice getting more and more passionate.

"Sure," Shannon said, "Whatever."

"I'm going to – " He stood up. "I'll be back." Great, now what idiotic thing was he going to do to make everyone think he was even _more_ stupid than he already was?

"You will not believe this," he told her, arriving back to their place on the beach a few hours later. She had been on another crossword, writing in _Titanic_ as the winner of the 1999 Best Picture at the Oscars.

"What?" She looked up and pursed her lips, posing for him.

"So I went over there, and I told Jack that he shouldn't have saved me. He was trying to be all noble and heroic, and he should have saved her, right?"

"I guess," She squinted into the sun.

"And then he said to me, guess what he said?"

"I _don't_ know!" She squealed sarcastically.

"He said, 'Yeah, well neither did you'. And then he ran off. I'm not kidding, he just disappeared off into the jungle. Weird, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's pretty weird," She said distractedly, trying to think of a green vegetable that had four letters.

"And that's not all. On my way there, I heard Hurley and Charlie and Jack saying that there were only eighteen water bottles left."

"_What_?" She exploded, dropping her pencil to the ground. How were they supposed to live? "What are they going to do?"

"I took it."

"You _what?_" She closed her eyes in frustration. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"It was just sitting there when I was coming back! And Jack was in the jungle! Someone could have taken it!"

"Like _you_ for example?"

"No, I mean, someone bad, like Sawyer."

"Someone bad like Sawyer?" She echoed. "Do you have any idea how dumb that sounds?"

"I gave some to the Korean people, because they don't understand what is going on."

"What about everybody else?" He handed her a bottle of water.

"Got you one," he said.

"Gee," she looked at it. "_Thanks_. I can't believe how _stupid_ you're being! I mean, what the hell are you thinking?"

"What do you want me to do about it now? Haul it back?"

"I don't know." She sighed. "What's a vegetable that's four letters?"

"Um," he thought, "Peas?"

"Oh, that's right. Good!" She wrote in p-e-a-s in 14 down. "Why don't you just tell Sayid or something what you think?"

"Uh…" he said. "Because I'm sick of everyone thinking they're more powerful. I'm not going to ask anyone's _permission_."

"So you're just going to let everyone get all worked up about their impending starvation?"

"You know what, Shannon? I just can't win with you, can I?"

"Maybe it's because you're being a fucking idiot," she spat.

"Maybe it's because you're being fucking selfish!" He cried.

"Selfish? I'm being selfish? You're the one who whored all the water for yourself!"

"It's not for me, god damnit!" He shouted. "Whatever, Shannon!" And with that, he walked away from her, glowering.

Later that night, Shannon heard Charlie yelling. Then she heard Boone's voice yelling back at him, "Someone had to take responsibility! It never would have lasted!"

Everyone began milling about, following the noise over to where she saw everyone glaring at Boone, Charlie and Sayid trying to beat him up. She watched in horror, but she had no idea what to do – she didn't want people to think that she was on his side, because she wasn't, by any means.

Then they heard Jack's voice. "Leave him alone." Everyone stopped in surprise, staring at the tired man who had just appeared. "It's been 6 days and we're all still waiting. Waiting for someone to come." His voice faltered. "But what if they don't? We have to stop waiting. We need to start figuring things out. A woman died this morning just going for a swim and he tried to save her," he looked at Boone, who looked down ashamedly, "And now you're about to crucify him? We can't do this. Every man for himself is _not_ going to work. It's time to start organizing. We need to figure out how we're going to survive here." She realized that he was right, and that no matter how hard she tried to deny it, rescue was not going to come soon. She felt a sinking feeling in her heart as she thought this. Would they ever be rescued? "Now, I found water. Fresh water, up in the valley. I'll take a group in at first light." Well, at least they didn't have to worry about water, now. The knot in her stomach loosened slightly, but not enough. They weren't going to get rescued… "If you don't want to go come, then find another way to contribute. Last week most of us were strangers, but we're all here now. And god knows how long we're going to be here. But if we can't live together, we're going to die alone." Everyone stared at him in awe and shame. And it was in that moment, when mostly everybody declared Dr. Jack Shepard the leader of their impending civilization.

She found him sitting on a log, staring at the ground looking depressed. She sat down next to him, leaning towards him. She turned his chin towards her, and took his face in her hands and kissed him. It was a full-on, no questions asked kiss, her lips took his soft but slightly chapped lips in her own and pressed her tongue into his waiting mouth. She moved her hands from his face to around his lower back, pulling back as he produced a tiny groan. "You're such an idiot," she said, and tickled his lips with her tongue. "I told you that you shouldn't have – " She kissed him softly on the lips. "You shouldn't have taken that water," He opened his mouth again, smiling slightly, slipping his tongue into her mouth. "Boone," she moaned. "Let's –"

"You wanna go…" he started, seeming to read her mind. But he had to pull back before he had enough brain power to construct a sentence. "Someone's going to see us, do you want to go… where we went?" He whispered.

She looked at the crackling fire ahead of her. "Yeah…" she smiled. They snuck quietly down the beach, and as she left the site, she thought she saw the shadow of Sawyer eyeing them. Or maybe that was just her imagination.

When he pushed her against that same tree, they were out of breath, and she sighed in delight as he pressed butterfly kisses down her neck and chest. She removed her shirt and her bra (making sure to retrieve the condom she had stuffed down her bra earlier) in one quick motion, impatient for what was going to happen next. "You're such an idiot, Boone," she moaned, wrapping her legs around his back.

"At least I'm not a selfish little bitch who doesn't – " He took off his boxers. "Do anything but tan and read magazines!" He brought his hands up her stomach, caressing her breasts softly but with purpose. For a moment, she couldn't insult him back, but when she did, it was cruel and stinging.

"You'd read a magazine if you had the brains to fucking do it!" She retorted.

"I have the brains to fucking do it, Shannon," he said hungrily.

"Not sure you do," she said, taking the condom wrapper between her teeth. He took it from her mouth, looking extremely turned on, and tore it open. After he had put it on, he skimmed his hands over the curve of her ass, and she desperately removed the last band of clothing between them.

Seconds later, familiar tears stung her eyes as she cried out his name in agony, letting his name ring out through the darkness like he was god. She swore dirty little words into his shoulder, her guard completely down again, as he entered her again. She felt the pressure between her legs shoot through her body, and as she pressed into him, arching her spine as much as she could, her stomach jumped and she sobbed into his ear.

When she asked him to go again, he just put her down, despite her begs of "please" and "again", and wrapped his arms around her as her tears morphed into tears of frustration, and cursed the island for all it was worth. He was quiet, letting her cry for as long as she wanted as he started putting on his clothes again. "You could have died!" she cried. She let him put her bra and her underwear back on, and the last thing that she recalled was him scooping her up and carrying her back to camp, as her tears subsided into mere sniffles of indignation.


	25. Memories From Before the Island

**Chapter 25 - Memories from Before the Island**

To say that Shannon woke up on the wrong side of the bed would have been an understatement. First of all, she wasn't in a bed, and second of all, the words "wrong side of the bed" didn't even begin to cover her horrendous temper.

"Boone," she said the moment she woke up, and the time barely even qualified as morning, there were still fucking stars out. She was a little disappointed that she couldn't take even the small pleasure of waking him up, because he was sitting up (had he ever laid down?), looking off forlornly at the waves that lapped at the surface of the beach.

"What?" He whispered, turning to look at her.

"What the fuck is your problem?" She referred to his refusal to go again hours before.

"You were upset."

"I was _not_ upset," she said shrilly, glaring at him.

"You were crying."

"_I was tearing_," she lied.

"Look Shannon, just because it's a little embarrassing that you _cry_ when you have an orgasm, doesn't mean you have to take it out on me." He smirked.

"I wasn't crying!" She repeated.

"You were sobbing!"

"I can't believe you!"

"This is like, the dumbest argument we've ever had, you know that?" He asked her. She frowned. "Are you okay?"

"No," she said stubbornly. "If you had gone again, maybe I would be."

"You weren't even crying about that! Don't you remember what you said?"

"No Boone, what did I say?" She said sardonically.

"You said that everyday you get closer and closer to jumping into the waves and not coming back up. Then you said that you hated the island, you hated everyone here, and you hated me. Then -"

"I remember what I said!" She lied through her teeth, not wanting to know.

"Fine."

"Fine!" She spat, turning over. "God, I hate you," she muttered a minute later. _"Tell me."_

"I love you." He answered, so used to her randomness it didn't even surprise him anymore.

"Shut the hell up." Then she sneezed. Oh fuck, a cold too?

When she woke up again, her nose was so stuffed up she could barely breathe, and her throat was as scratchy as hell. He was looking at her, worried. "Why can't you just go away?" She sniffled, annoyed by his constant presence.

"You're sick." He said, putting his hand on her forehead. "No fever, though. Probably just a 24-hour thing."

"I'm not an idiot," she responded, her voice hoarse. "Is there any tea?"

"Tea? I dunno, probably. But the water won't be that hot. And there's no ice, so I can't get you iced tea."

"I hate this fucking island."

"More than you hate St. Gabriel's?" He asked.

"God, yes!" She said dramatically, remembering with horror the chi-chi Catholic school where they had attended high school.

"More than you hate me?" He asked, fishing for a compliment, bloody bastard.

"Oh no, Boone." She smiled. "I hate you _much_ more."

"Well, if you're okay, then I'm going to go do something else." He said. She grabbed his arm.

"Can you get me some tissues?" She asked in a slightly more polite tone. She wanted something, after all.

"Yeah. Do you want to talk to Jack about… whatever you have?"

"Dho." She sniffed.

"Does that translate to 'no'?" He asked patiently.

"Yeah. Now go get me some tissues, please." The rest of the morning passed in a cloud of delirium. At some point, he got her a water bottle and brought the tissues, and sat by her side and rubbed her back for a few minutes, but then he left. Shannon saw Sawyer pass them at some point, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Remember that time when I got sick, and you cut P.E. to take me home?" Shannon asked Boone a few hours later.

"Yeah," he said. "I still don't know why you wouldn't call my mom."

"Because she's so fucking scary," Shannon muttered under her breath. "You were such a good boy, I think that was the first and last time you ever ditched."

"I was _not_ that much of a good boy!"

Shannon scoffed. "You wanna know what Anna used to say about you all the time?"

"Do I?" He asked warily.

"She said, 'Your brother is so _cute_ and sweet, I just want to dirty him up!'"

"Did she really say that?"

"Yup." Shannon smiled at the memory. They had been sophomores when Anna decided she liked Boone. She had started by just offhandedly mentioning how good-looking he was to Shannon, then how cute she thought he was, and then the 'dirty him up' comment.

Shannon spent the remainder of the day going through memories from their past. Whenever something related to Camilla or her father came up, Shannon shut down the memory, and tried to force her brain to think of something else. She searched through her memories chronologically, for some reason she always did this, beginning with her preschool days and ending before her father died. Things were simpler then.

She remembered the first time she had met Sabrina, when she and Boone had come over for dinner when she was almost eight. Shannon didn't think it would last, so she hadn't thought much of the quiet, serious, wide-eyed boy sitting across from her – but up to this day, she could still recall his exact expression upon seeing her for the first time – "Oh no, here comes trouble," it seemed to say. When she found out that this "Sabrina" and her father were getting married, it had been at another awkward dinner in which Sabrina had served some disgusting, expensive fish in her expansive kitchen, and when David uttered the word "fiancé" Shannon and Boone dropped their forks to their white china plates at the exact same time. Shannon's first words to Sabrina were, "I'm not going to call you Mommy."

After dinner, her father had suggested that they go upstairs and play, as if a third-grader who still believed in boy cooties would stand within 5 feet of this person who was supposed to be her brother. She had argued, lost the battle, and as she followed Boone, she heard her father say, "I wish my daughter were as polite as your son."

"So," she said to him when they arrived in his room, standing in the doorway warily. Everything in the room was blue. Navy blue, which of course complemented the lighter blue walls. Every surface was immaculate, frighteningly so. It made Shannon feel like she was in a warehouse.

"Um," said Boone, looking at his perfect J. Crew for kids shoes. "Do you want some cookies?" He reached under his bed, pulling out a bag of Oreo cookies. She looked at him disdainfully.

"No," she lied. The truth was, she would have eaten anything just to get the taste of the fish out of her mouth. But she wasn't going to eat cookies from under a fifth grader's bed. I mean, how long had they been there, anyway? "Where's your daddy?" She asked spontaneously.

"I don't have a father." He said, munching on a cookie.

"Everyone has a dad. Duh!"

"Wull, I don't," he shrugged, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"Don't you know how kids are _made_?" She asked, her young mind already soiled thanks to her friend Olivia's older sister.

"Yeah… I mean, yes," he answered uncomfortably.

"No, you don't." She taunted. "Give me a cookie, and maybe I'll tell you."

He handed her a cookie. "How old are these things, anyway?"

"Rosita gave them to me yesterday."

"Who's Rosita?"

"Our maid. She's my friend," he boasted.

"Your friend?"

"Yeah. We had a deal, are you going to tell me or not?"

She smiled mischievously. "Maybe."

"We had a deal!" He interjected.

She smiled, her crooked teeth covered in cookie residue. Elementary school kids don't notice this type of thing. She leaned over and whispered in his ear, as Boone's already large eyes widened in surprise.

"That's not true!" He gaped after she finished. "That's disgusting!"

"Don't tell anyone," she made him promise. Funny how they were still keeping secrets today.

Her father had slapped him for the first time when he was twelve. Shannon had gotten home from school, and put her pink denim backpack on the kitchen chair. It was oddly quiet, and as she tiptoed through the living room, she noticed her father snoring on the couch. This was familiar. She had experienced many a family blowout that ended with her father collapsing on the couch, drunk, only to wake up hours later, disgruntled but apologetic, hugging and kissing his entire photogenic family and begging for forgiveness. She wondered where Boone was – he had gotten a ride home with his friend Eric's mom, so she went upstairs looking for him. She needed help with her math homework, anyway. She crept up the stairs, and was surprised when she found herself surrounded by the enthusiastic embrace of Boone, whose eyes were red from crying and was developing a sizable welt on his right cheek. Even then, she enjoyed getting hugs from Boone, he was always so warm and soft and comfortable – but now, she wondered what the reason for his emotions were. "What's wrong?" She wrapped her arms around him.

"Your dad hit me," he blubbered.

"Daddy hit you?"

"Yeah." He sobbed, longing for her attention. It was times like these that Shannon was surprised to remember that he was actually _older_ than her, but those moments seemed to subside after a few years.

"Do you know why?"

"Something about losing his job, and then I spilled my milk, and then he slapped me. It hurt."

"Of course it hurt," she said to him, familiar with the stinging feeling of being slapped by your parents.

After a few moments, he pulled back. "Sorry to break down in front of you," he cleared his throat. "I'm going to go in my room." Shannon sat in her room, waiting for her father's apologies to come.

When she was sick, her memories spun around her in such a strange order and way. Some memories were just pictures in her head, while others she could remember every word. For example, she couldn't remember the first time they had kissed, yet she remembered what she had eaten for breakfast on the first day of eighth grade.

She remembered one time during the summer before her sophomore year, she heard Sabrina and a friend, drinking something, tea, they claimed, from silver embossed cups, whispering hoarsely, "Sometimes I worry about them getting… too close…" Shannon flattened herself against the wall, listening to bits of conversation. "And Boone's so sensitive. He could get hurt." she said.

"Yes," her friend agreed. Martha, a fat and nosy woman who had been friends with Sabrina since college. "But I think you're worrying about nothing. They don't seem that close to me."

"Shannon can be pretty –"

" – manipulative." Finished Martha. "I can see that. But they're brother and sister. They know that."

"You haven't seen how they get sometimes," Sabrina whispered thinly. "I'll come home and they'll be asleep on the couch, with their arms wrapped around each other… sharing a blanket. I mean, what should I make of that? You're a psychiatrist, you should know."

"Oh," Martha, waving her hand, dismissed. "Was it after something bad happened?"

Sabrina paused. "Well, yes, David and I had been arguing, now that you mention it."

"They were lonely. Scared, maybe. That's normal."

Sabrina breathed a sigh of relief. "You sure? Because I've heard noises coming from their bedrooms, I think. They're too old to be sleeping in the same bed."

"Your imagination. You've formulated this in your head. I've dealt with patients who feel the same way before. And you know what? Every one of them were imagining it." Shannon walked down the hall. It wasn't that this information didn't bother her, because it did. But Shannon liked the idea of pissing off Sabrina, so she was just quieter about it from then on.

"Is it true that you hooked up with Ryan Kinsley at the dance?" He asked her as nonchalantly as possible the morning after her first school dance at Saint Gabriel's. He did this a lot, right as he took the Cheerios out of the cupboard. Dangerous questions like, "Is it true you freaked with Timothy Hailer at Anna's party?" or "Is it true that you're failing English?" or "Did you ditch Algebra last week?"

"Maybe," Shannon smiled, stretching her long legs, clad in a plaid skirt (stupid uniform) under the table. "Is it true you danced with Holly Anderson three times?"

"She likes me," he said darkly, pouring milk into his cheerios.

"I know, she thinks you like her, too."

"I don't. But stop, you're changing the subject: did you or did you not make out with Ryan at the dance?"

"Don't worry, big brother, he's a crappy kisser anyways." And with that, she kissed her brother on the forehead and went upstairs to put on another coat of mascara.

Anna decided to "dirty up" Boone the following fall. She told Shannon during their annual weekend-before-school sleepover. One of their rituals during these sleepovers was to (a) get drunk, (b), play MASH like they used to when they were in fourth grade, (c) make a list of guys they wanted to hook up with, and (d) take their school uniform skirts and sew them shorter and shorter every year. "Shannon," Anna slurred to her right before they fell asleep. "Can I carpool home with you and Boone this year? It's part of my plan."

"Um," Shannon answered. "Sure, I guess."

"Can I please, please sit in the front?" Anna was begging Shannon as stood in front of Boone's car, an expensive little Lexus, of course.

"Yeah, sure." Shannon opened the door and climbed into the back. Anna sat in the front seat and put her feet on the dashboard, exposing as much of her mile-long legs as possible. When they caught him sneaking glances, Anna pretended not to notice, stretching them out further as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.

"Thanks for the ride," she whispered in his ear as she got out of the car. Two weeks later, on a Monday, Shannon was surprised to see Anna bounce into her regular passenger seat (as Shannon slinked into the back), and kiss Boone full-on the lips for what seemed like an hour. "How much fucking fun was this weekend?" She asked him, pulling back (finally).

"Really fucking fun," he said, looking at Shannon in the rearview mirror, biting his lip uncomfortably. He smiled the whole way to school, and Shannon had the urge to slap that smile right off of his face. Instead she dropped a pen on the ground and leaned over to pick it up, making sure he had a perfect view down her shirt.

They walked into the building, and Shannon felt very much like a third wheel, which she wasn't used to being. When the bell rang, Anna French-kissed him again, much to the anger of a nun (there were _nuns_ at their school, it was so friggin' Catholic), and everyone in the hall took notice.

"How weird is it that your brother's going out with your best friend?" An awkward girl named Jackie who seemed to think she was Shannon's best friend, whispered to her as she sat down in her seat, Sister Beatrice, who they lovingly referred to as Sister Bitch, eyed Shannon.

"It's not that weird," she lied. "Can I copy your notes from yesterday?" As Shannon finished writing down the notes, Anna breezed her way into the room.

"Van Camp," said Sister Beatrice shrilly, "You're late."

"Oh sorry, Sister Beatrice," Anna graced Sister Beatrice (along with the rest of the boys of the class) with her million dollar smile. "I was having girl troubles."

"Of course, just don't let it happen again. Pop quiz!" Announced Sister Beatrice. "Clear off your desks!"

"Shit," exclaimed Joey Hailer. Shannon smiled at him.

"My thoughts exactly," she said to him.

Lunch that day was _hell_. She arrived at she and Anna's usual lunch spot, but instead of Anna, there was her idiot brother, with Anna in his lap. He looked up at her, almost apologetic. Shannon understood because she was well aware of how pushy she could be.

"Boone and I are going out to lunch today," she said. "Wanna come with?"

"No," she said, forcing a smile. "Nothing to ruin your appetite like watching your best friend and your brother make out, right?" She laughed, a laugh that sounded fake to her own ears. Maybe that was why she found herself kissing Joey Hailer that day after school.

Sometimes Anna would sneak into the house and up to Boone's room, more often than not drunk. She would hear their voices for a few moments, and then more muffled noises she wished she didn't have to hear. She couldn't hide the guilty pleasure she felt when Boone got an embarrassing lecture about sex from Sabrina the next day.

"Oh my god," Boone approached Shannon that afternoon. "The Korean guy just tried to kill Michael!"

"Which one is Michael?" Shannon asked, not really caring, interrupted from her reverie.

"He's black, he has a kid."

"The Korean guy is kind of hot."

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Go away." She looked at the bright sky, and wished desperately that it would rain.

It had been raining on February 15th of her senior year. Her car was in the shop, Anna's license had been temporarily revoked, and when she had asked Sabrina for a ride, she had sent her messenger, Boone, to give them a ride. His college was relatively near by, and he didn't have classes on Friday. When he pulled up, Shannon and Anna climbed into the car, trying to keep their tiny skirts, thanks to their tradition, in tact.

"How was Saint Craps today?" He asked.

"Don't you mean Saint Fuckworth?" Shannon retorted. Shannon looked at Anna. Boone looked at Shannon. Anna stared at both of them.

She slinked into the back seat, saying, "This is so fucking awkward," as she cheerfully took a container of vodka out of her backpack and took a long swig.

"Anna," Boone said nervously. She ignored him.

"Boone," she said instead, "You look so fucking hot right now. Seriously, if we weren't broken up, I think I'd jump you right now."

"Um," he said. "Thanks?" Anna was right. He looked really hot. Like, hotter than usual. It was something about what the rain did to his hair, and how his cheeks turned pinker in the cold. He also wasn't wearing a polo shirt, which was always a plus.

The moment Anna jumped out of the car, teetering a little bit, she pressed her lips into Boone's ear (maybe she missed his cheek?) and said something along the lines of, "Thanks, baby."

Shannon crept her hands up his thigh, smiling mischievously. As her fingers traveled further north, he smiled in defeat. "Your ass," he started, "Looks so fucking hot in that skirt."

"Anna's is shorter," Shannon pointed out.

"You look hotter," he told her as she pressed into his pants zipper. He jerked away. "Here, let me just back out of the driveway and we'll pull over somewhere, okay?"

"I don't know if I can wait," she whined. She had never seen Boone drive so fast. Pretty soon, they rolled into the back seats, thanking the creators of tinted windows profusely in their heads, and were all over each other, his hands stuffed up her skirt and her hands groping underneath his boxers. They were placing wet, slobbery kisses on each other's lips that would have been disgusting in any other case, but they were way too horny to care. She crawled into his lap, straddling him, and it wasn't long before her moans came, loud and passionate in their cries. "Yes, Boone. God, yes..." She practically screamed. He groaned into her neck as she pressed her hips into his again.

"Shit," he sighed when they were done. "Shit." Then they had driven the rest of the way home, slightly disheveled, and walked calmly into Sabrina's humble abode and ate dinner. Sabrina looked at their flushed faces, reciting Martha's words in her head, praying that they were true.

"Some of the others are moving to the caves. That's where the water is," Boone told her. "I don't want to go, though, do you?"

"Not really." She said, refusing to put her real reason to words. If they moved to the caves, people might hear them. The reason really was that simple, and they both knew it.

_If I just totally ruined the story, I am sorry, but that chapter… was way too much fun to write. Please review! I didn't actually mean to submit a chapter today, I wrote it all this afternoon, but I was sick, and I had nothing else better to do, so it sort of happened. Wow, that chapter was too much fun to write. _


	26. Sawyer's Knowledge

_Well, right now, my brain is writer's block central. And my stomach is killing me. And I don't know whether or not to include their rocket stuff from The Moth or not. I feel like writing a steamy sex scene, but I've done that the last three chapters, so I somehow don't think that would be appropriate. But it is fanfiction, and everyone knows that fanfiction is usually only read for sex scenes anyhow. What to do, what to do? Owwwww, mi estomago està muy malo. (Excuse terrible Spanish)_

_Maybe I'll do eeny meeny miny mo. Rather random sex scene, boring Shannon turning on the rocket and setting it off? Boone coming back from trying to dig Jack out of the cave, Boone coming… uh… in another way? snickers Okay, my decision is made._

**Chapter 26 - Sawyer's Knowledge**

That day, Kate and Sayid had been doing something related to triangulating the signal on the French transmission. She didn't really know what, but Boone had volunteered to help (of course he hadn't noticed the dubious looks Kate and Sayid gave him as he walked up), and then Jack and Charlie had gotten stuck in a cave. The stupidest things happened on this island! Stuck in a cave! So, Boone had gone to go save the day, or watch the day being saved by Charlie of all people, and Shannon had had to set a bottle rocket off at five. It had something to do with the triangles and the signals, and she had almost missed it because she had been talking to some frumpy manicurist from Ohio about Malibu, where Cruella/Sabrina rented a summerhouse. But she still ended up setting off the rocket. When Boone returned from the caves, covered in dirt, he had suggested again that they move to the caves, and after yelling at each other about it for an hour, they had gone to sleep, but the moment their heads hit the warm beach, they had been all over each other, forgetting almost completely about their argument.

After a few minutes of this, they realized that they needed to get away from everyone, and she had walked down the beach and scampered into the water, letting the warm waves glide over her feet. He leaned over, washing his face with the salty water, and then massaged her back, his still damp fingers moistening her neck as he kneaded into her shoulders. He exhaled, sending shivers down her back as his breath shot down the back of her skimpy tank top. She sighed breathily, turning around to face him. She had been so distracted by his seducing skills, an area that she had thought he was lacking in, that she hadn't noticed a significant wave gurgling behind her, and when the wave brushed over her calves, she tripped over a rock in surprise and fell into the water. She grabbed onto him, accidentally pulling him in with her, and when they reached the surface again, they were gasping for air. In any normal situation, she would have been extremely pissed off to be wet with sticky, salty water, but this island was so hot and humid that she was grateful for any contact with water she could get. They swam up to the shore, to an area where the water was only about ankle deep. Kneeling on the ground and facing each other, she looked at his wet hair, plastered onto his scalp, and his shirt, which was glued onto him, dripping wet. And of course, she couldn't help but notice how his boxers were completely skintight in their drenched state. She giggled, blushing a little, and as she stood up, she could imagine that her clothing was probably quite revealing too. After all, she was wearing a white tank top and a tiny cotton skirt, which she carelessly tossed down the beach.

As the waves lapped at their feet, she leaned towards him and kissed him on the lips, the chaste kiss of a kin to another kin. But he had other ideas, pulling her flush against him, opening his lips to her eager tongue. She moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist and hoisting herself against him. They continued to kiss, forgetting their anger even further, as her wet hair dripped onto his shirt, which she peeled off as soon as possible. They didn't realize that they were backing up, and once again, fell into the water.

"Maybe we should move away from the water," he suggested, smirking, and grabbed her hand, leading her up the beach, further from the camp. When they were far enough, she noticed that the evening air was chilly and crisp, and started shivering. He lay down in the sand, and she rolled on top of him almost immediately. Recognizing how cold she was, he wrapped his arms around her, but she had other ideas. Pulling herself closer so that she could feel his pulse, she kissed his neck softly, gradually becoming more aggressive with her kisses by eventually adding teeth. Finally, she reached his lips, which tasted salty, and nibbled on his bottom lip. He kissed back, climbing his hands up her damp waist, pulling off her thin shirt that had been stuck to her skin. "I want you so badly," she moaned, her teeth chattering as she dug her nails into his sides.

As the sun began to peak into the sky, they decided to go back to the water, and wash the sand and extra layer of guilt from their bodies. She had hopped into his arms again and was kissing him eagerly, running her hands through her hair, when she suddenly realized what time it was. "Boone," she said, pulling back a little.

"Yeah?" His cheeks were flushed, and he looked sweaty and confused.

"People are going to wake up," she pointed out, hastily grabbing her skirt and a random shirt that she hoped was hears and not his. Creeping back to camp to get their clothes and creeping back to him were probably the most awkward couple of minutes of her life. The kid almost woke up when she stepped on the dog's tail, and she cringed as she wondered what he would say when they saw a half naked, shivering girl with hair that had dried in strange curls somewhat resembling dreadlocks standing over him. Stupid Boone! Why could he have gotten the fucking clothes himself!

"I hate this fucking island. I fucking hate you," she whispered when she got back, holding his bag, which had somehow become shared between them, in front of him. He took it from her and took out a clean shirt. He had somehow salvaged his boxers from the waves. "I am _not_ moving to the caves." She dried herself off with her old shirt and slipped on a yellow ribbed tank top.

"I fucking hate you too, Shannon." He answered listlessly, pulling on his shirt. "What the hell is the big deal?" He yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. She put on a matching skirt and took out her gigantic makeup case.

"I've told you like, 600 times!" That was when her breathing started to get rough. She had inhaled in frustration, but found it rather difficult. "Can you please get my… inhalers?" She wheezed, sitting down, and as he groped through his bag, she wondered why it was taking so long. "This is all your fucking fault, Boone… I can get… attacks… I can get attacks when I'm in physically demand… demanding situations." She closed her eyes and counted to ten. "Why are you taking so long?" She asked, her breathing steadying slightly. He looked at her seriously.

"I can't find the inhalers," he said slowly.

"You can't find them." She repeated. "What the fuck am I supposed to do? I mean, I can't breathe here!"

"Sounds like you're breathing fine now," he said, trying to disguise his concern. She sneered at him acerbically, looking at the mirror in her makeup case worriedly. She looked like crap! Why hadn't he told her?

"Don't be a smart ass." Just then, Sawyer walked by, smirking and plopped down right near them and started reading a book.

"Well, hello," he smiled mockingly. "What's doing with my favorite brother and sister today?" He didn't even seem to find it weird that he was reading at six thirty in the morning, or that they were wet and sitting in the sand looking ridiculously guilty.

She gaped at him. He shook his head, looking victorious, and returned to the book. "It's about bunnies," he told them. She nodded slowly. Boone was looking at the book in concentration. God, he was an idiot for not realizing that Sawyer knew!

Shannon and Boone glared at each other, and she said one more time, slowly, as if he was retarded, "I am _not_ moving to the caves," although it seemed completely non-sequitor. He bit his lip in defeat, and lay down again, closing his eyes and trying to sleep. She followed suit, squinting at Sawyer, who seemed to be perusing the book attentively.

"Sticks," he drawled, looking from her to the unconscious Boone. "You really got that boy tired, haven't you?"

Shannon rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Sawyer," she said uninterestedly, sitting up. Then Sawyer laughed a harsh, spontaneous chuckle.

"Your brother," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Smooth cover, Sticks."

"He _is_ my brother," she answered reflexively.

"Sure," he drew out the vowels, his Southern accent taking charge. "Ain't we going to wake the boy up by talking?" He glanced at Boone.

"No, he sleeps like a rock. I could probably punch him in the face and he wouldn't notice."

"You could probably kick him in the balls and he wouldn't notice," Sawyer smirked.

"Look Sawyer, I'm not an idiot –"

"Would've fooled me – "

"Shut the fuck up, okay? I'm not an idiot, I see what you're getting at, and I want you to _stop_, okay?"

"Alright Sticks," he said, flipping a page absently. "It's a deal."

She turned over and closed her eyes, the lack of sleep from last night finally getting to her. Even in his sleep, Boone had sensed her presence, and whispered "Shan" sleepily, wrapping a protective arm around her waist.

"Boone," she said back. He didn't seem to notice that Sawyer was still there. "Boone," she said again, more forcefully.

"Yeah, what?" He opened his eyes.

"Sawyer," she whispered hoarsely. But when she looked up, Sawyer had disappeared.

Boone yawned rather adorably and sat up, as people were beginning to stir. Shannon didn't care; she let herself doze off for a few minutes. By the time she woke up, she felt completely crappy (an entire night of having sex and no sleep can do that to you), but it was probably about eleven, so she stood up and started to redo her makeup. She wondered where Boone had gone, but didn't let herself become too concerned about him, and devoted her concerns to the state of her hair.

Maybe she should have been concerned about him, she thought as she saw him approach her, his nose bloody, reminding her painfully of the last time she had seen him in this condition. She didn't know why she was so nice about it; maybe it was too make up for last time. "Oh my god," she said, looking at him – he had a couple of bruises on his arms, a cut on his forehead, and of course, the nose bleed. "What happened to you?"

"Sawyer beat me up," Boone said, cringing as he sat down on a tree stump next to her. "I can barely walk."

"What? Why!" She exclaimed, replacing her makeup brush into its container.

"I thought he had your inhalers!" Boone said earnestly.

"Why would he take my inhalers?" Shannon asked condescendingly.

"He was reading Watership Down. That's _my_ book!" Shannon nodded. Boone had always carried her inhalers around for her because Shannon forgot to. Many a time had they been driving somewhere, and Shannon had panicked, remembering that she had left her inhalers somewhere. Once, Sabrina got the idea in her twisted little brain that they should all go on a road trip to Mexico. David had begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to disappoint his money source/wife, and Boone and Shannon had argued the entire way there. Anyway, about an hour out of San Diego, Shannon started fumbling in her bag, and almost had an attack when she realized her inhalers weren't there.

"Shit," she had said, and Sabrina had glared at her 15-year-old stepdaughter through the car mirror. "I don't have my inhalers."

"You forgot your inhalers _again_?" David shouted, waking Boone, who predictably had fallen asleep on Shannon's shoulder in the back seat. Why hadn't they gone on one of these stupid road trips when they were seven like they were supposed to?

"Calm down, David," said Boone. "I'm sure they're here somewhere. Did you look in your tote bag, too?" He asked her. But he was wrong. Sabrina turned the wheel of the Mercedes in a dramatic U-Turn, yelling at Shannon the entire way, and when they got back to the house, David had refused to leave again.

So, they just left without him, and Sabrina ditched Shannon and Boone for a spa, being the responsible mother that she wasn't, and Shannon and Boone ditched Sabrina for a night of tequila and grinding against each other in a random club in Cancun. Shannon had donned a curve hugging, teal halter dress and worn her hair long and wavy, but when they arrived, Shannon realized that the boys-under-18 bracket was not abundant, so the first thing they did was head to the bar and order a shot of tequila. When a cheesy hip-hop song came on, she had bubbled, "I love this song!" even though she really didn't, and they found themselves up against each other, Boone's hands firmly planted on her ass, grinding and groping at each other like there was no tomorrow, later graduating to making out like there was no tomorrow. But unfortunately, there was a tomorrow, and the ensuing fight between mother and son had not been pretty.

"Shannon! Are you even listening to me!" He asked, disturbing her reverie.

"Yeah, sorry, what?" She responded carelessly, brushing out her hair with her fingers.

"Sawyer!" He gestured to his bloody nose. "He said some things…"

"Did he call you a mean name?" She responded condescendingly.

"Shannon," he said forcefully. "Look at me, god damnit!" She looked at him. "He knows, okay? He knows about _us_."

Shannon shrugged. "I know," she responded.

"You _know_?"

"Yeah, he doesn't care." Shannon shrugged again. "He's not going to tell anyone."

He gaped at her in disbelief. "I can't believe you aren't reacting to this. What are we supposed to do?"

"Does that matter? Where are the inhalers?" She asked anxiously.

"Um," he answered. "He didn't have them. Or wouldn't give them to me. I don't know, I was too busy being beat to the ground to fucking notice. Sorry." He finished sarcastically.

"Maybe you should go get Jack." Shannon said, looking at the gash on his forehead.

"Maybe you should help me _walk_, Shannon." He answered. "You are so fucking selfish!" She stood up, draping his arm over her. They limped over to Jack's tent, which would have been easier had they been living at the caves, but she didn't mention this. She wiped her forehead about halfway through and they collapsed.

"Let me take a break," she said. "Let me catch… my breath." He didn't say anything; he just gave her a look that she couldn't quite interpret. As they sat, Sawyer walked by, glaring at Boone. Shannon glared right back at him, muttering "bastard" quite audibly as he exited.

Boone looked amused, or he would have if his facial expressions hadn't been extremely handicapped thanks to the gash on his forehead. "Let's go," he prodded, wincing. He draped his arm over her shoulder again, and they somehow managed to make it to Jack's tent.

"We need some help over here!" She yelled.

"What happened?" Jack asked anxiously, taking one of his arms as Sayid took the other. Shannon backed up and sat on a nearby bucket.

"Sawyer." Boone explained, flinching. Sayid and Jack sat Boone down on a makeshift chair, and Sayid retreated. She saw Jack go over to a table covered in bottles, which she presumed were full of medicines, and grab a bottle of peroxide. See, Boone had a thing about peroxide. Most people were sensitive to how it stung, but he was much worse. Only a few weeks after Shannon and her father had moved to the Carlyle's house, Boone had come home one day with a scrape on his knee, claiming that he had fallen down a flight of stairs. When Sabrina had cleaned it off, she had heard her yelling at him, as Sabrina roughly poured copious amounts of peroxide onto the cut. He had started crying, which Shannon remembered thinking was very stupid, he was such a sensitive little kid. And even just weeks ago in Sydney, she had watched him putting peroxide on the cut where Brian had hit him, and how he flinched just looking at the bottle. Or maybe he had been flinching at the sight of her in the bathroom mirror.

He was doing the same thing now, squinting his eyes and batting away Jack's arm as he held a cloth with peroxide on it to his forehead. "Jack, it's fine!" He exclaimed. "It's just a scrape."

"Yeah, lots of scrapes today. I'm running out of peroxide." Jack responded blandly. He sat down across from Boone as Boone tried to reposition himself.

"He just jumped me, man." Boone claimed. "I didn't –"

"Why?" Asked Jack.

"Shannon has asthma." He said, and Shannon looked over, frowning. It was bad enough that she was like the epitome of one of those band geeks permanently attached to an inhaler, but nobody needed to know!

When she saw them looking at her, she turned back, busying herself with a loose thread on her shirt.

"Asthma?" Jack repeated, sounding nervous.

"Yeah."

"I've never seen her have an attack before," Jack said, as if he was making it up or something.

"Because she had an inhaler. She's sneaks hits when no one's looking. She's been embarrassed about it since she was a little kid. I guess breathing's not cool." She rolled her eyes. That idiot! He probably thought he was being cute and funny, and if he thought that was blackmail, he should see what kinds of things she could embarrass him about!

"_Had_ an inhaler?" Jack repeated, sounding even more nervous.

"It ran out a couple of days ago." He hadn't told her that it had run out! She hated how he censored information from her, like she was too weak to handle the truth. "But I had 4 refills which should have been enough for a couple of months. But she always forgets her medication so I put it my suitcase. Today I see that jackass reading Watership Down." He spoke vehemently, like the world was coming to its end.

"You're losing me," Jack looked at Boone like he was retarded.

"It was in my bags, the stuff that I checked. If he has my book, he has my luggage, if he has the luggage he has the inhalers! Her breathing got really rough today, man. If she has an attack, it's not going to be good."

Jack sighed. "I'll get them from him."

"How?" Boone wasn't nearly as calm as Jack was.

"I just will. We need to clean the cut on your chest now." Boone took off his shirt. Oh, shit. Not only was there a huge gash from Sawyer's little bought of fun, but there were also the long, bloody scrapes from where she had dug her nails into him accidentally. She gave him a look, but he wasn't looking at her.

She tapped her fingers on the bucket in concern, hoping that Jack wouldn't notice the scrapes. Jack put the peroxide cloth on his shoulder." What are those?" He asked, referring to the scrapes. Shit, shit, shit.

Boone's eyes widened in surprise. "Um," he said. "This is going to sound really stupid, but… I have a cat, and it went kind of psycho, and – " Jack looked at him, completely not buying it.

"I'm not an idiot, Boone. I know what these are from." He laughed, half smiling. "So you had a girlfriend who got a little crazy with… anticipation. I get it."

Boone looked incredibly embarrassed. "Uh… uh…" he blubbered, putting his shirt back on.

"Hey," Jack patted Boone on the back. "I think you're going to be okay. Now," he clenched his fists, "I'll go take care of Sawyer. Shannon, keep an eye on your brother, will you?" Shannon looked up and nodded. She was a wee bit on the embarrassed side herself. "Psychotic cat…" Jack shook his head as he walked away.

The moment he was gone, Shannon stared at him in disbelief. "What the fuck?" She whispered hoarsely, approaching him. "A psycho cat?" Shannon laughed at the thought of being compared to an insane feline.

"What else was I supposed to say?" But she didn't get to answer, because just then, a whoosh of air flew past her nose, sending her into a fit of hysterical coughing. She could tell that this was the real thing, because it wasn't long before she realized that she wasn't breathing at all. She sat on the floor of the caves, tears streaming down her face.

"Shannon! Oh shit, Shannon," Boone somehow stood up, and kneeled down next to her. "Can you please try to breathe?" He said, as calmly as possible. "Please. Breathe, Shannon!"

She shook her head. She would breathe if she fucking could, wouldn't she? She gasped, trying desperately to formulate the words "Get Jack." She realized that those were possibly her last words.

_Sorry it took so long to update, and sorry, that chapter was really bad and had a horrible ending. Um, please review, and tell me which lines you liked/didn't like. Did you like the beach thing and the flashback? And was the Sawyer/Shannon conversation too weird? What about the psycho cat thing?_


	27. Breathing is Easier Said than Done

**Chapter 27 - Shannon's Asthma Attack**

The moment Jack arrived; he poured out the contents of his medicine bag onto the ground, and frantically began searching through it. She covered her mouth, and her face dripped in sweat, responding to the lack of air by draining all the color out of Shannon's face. "Just try to breathe." Boone told her, kneeled in front of her. "Breathe!" He said passionately. "Come on, Shan, work with me!" She shook her head. How could she breathe if she didn't have her inhalers? And why would Sawyer want to steal them? Boone persuaded her to breathe more, murmuring encouraging words to her, but she responded with another tumultuous gasp, unable to follow his instructions. She noticed the Korean woman standing nearby, watching her, and then Jack knelt in front of her. He was about to say something when he saw Sawyer walking by. On top of her inability to breathe, anger welled up inside of her, and apparently, the same thing happened to Jack, because he dodged over to Sawyer, but she didn't hear what they said next.

She held onto Boone's hand, squeezing it harder with every gasp and cough that escaped her lungs. In addition to the lack of oxygen, tears were also streaming down her face. There was no air supply on this island besides her inhalers, and she felt nearer and nearer to death with every breath she couldn't take. She closed her eyes, discouraged. Her throat seemed to be closing up, until everything around her was spinning and her throat was scratchy, begging for air. "Can't," she attempted to whisper, but Boone shushed her. "Die…" she managed to force out.

"No, you're not going to die!" He told her earnestly. "You won't die, Shan. You're going to breathe. Jack is going to get the inhalers from Sawyer and then you'll be fine."

She was able to inhale one tinier pocket of air, but then, no air would enter her lungs. You could die within minutes without air, and she was well aware that she was this close to death now. She opened her eyes wider, too scared for tears now. She tried to breathe in, but nothing reached her lungs. The air seemed to stop right before it reached where it needed to go. She gasped deeper, but nothing was working.

"Help! She's not breathing!" Boone yelled towards Jack. He ran to them, and Boone explained, "Her attacks are getting worse." Jack knelt down in front of her.

"Shannon, listen to me." She tried to grasp onto the concept of his words. "Look at me, look at me." He put his hand on her chin and forced her to look at him. "You need to listen now. This isn't just the asthma, this is anxiety. It's in your head."

"No," she tried to say.

"Yes." She shook her head. It wasn't, she was sick, and she needed the fucking inhalers!

"You know that the medicine's run out, and you're panicking." She looked at Boone, trying to breathe again. "Listen to me. We can fight this. Together, okay?" He told her, but she knew it was a load of shit and that she was going to die. "Nod your head." She jerked her head up and down, even though she didn't believe him. "Good. Breathe in through your –"

"She needs her inhalers!" Boone yelled.

"Boone." Jack shut him up. "Breathe in through your nose, slowly." She made an attempt to breathe again, showing him that she really couldn't breathe and she wasn't fucking making it up! "No, no, no. In through the nose, like this." He slowly breathed in and out through his nose, and Shannon tried to copy the rhythm of his breath. "You can do this Shannon. You can do it. In through your nose." She closed her mouth, not allowing anything through her mouth, and a bit of air, a tiny bit, but still some, entered her nose. And down her throat. And into her lungs. It wasn't much, but he was right, it did help somewhat. "You got your breath. Yeah. Your color's coming back." He smiled as she inhaled through her nose again. "See, I knew you could do this. Do you feel it?"

"Yeah." She whispered.

"It's passing. Okay. Again, in through nose." She breathed again. "Alright, just keep doing that. Keep breathing like that." She summoned a little more air through her nose. "That's perfect, good job." Jack pulled Boone aside, and Shannon continued to try to breathe. It was harder without the comfort of a doctor or her brother, and she was extremely grateful when he came back to her, holding her hand again. Jack, however, was gone.

"You're doing really well, Shan." He told her. She looked at him skeptically. "I'm serious. I wouldn't lie to you, you're doing so good." She inhaled through her nose again… _1, 2, and 3…_ and did not exhale through her mouth this time. _1, 2, 3… _as she dug her fingers into his arm. He winced, but didn't say anything.

A few minutes later, she closed her eyes, resting, as Boone took her hand again. He smiled down at her, and besides feeling calm and peaceful, she also felt sort of… smitten. That was, until Sayid ran by, his white tank top covered in blood. Boone looked up quickly, dropping Shannon's hand and walked up to him. "Whose blood is that?" She heard him say, twice.

"Sawyer." Sayid answered shortly. Shannon had forgotten about Sawyer. Her mind clouded with rage thinking of the man who had allowed her to almost die.

"You went after Sawyer and you didn't even tell me?" Boone seemed to be tagging along with Sayid, and muttered something like, "She's my _sister_."

"Boone?" Her voice still sounded a bit awkward and loud after such a long time of not being able to use it. "Don't leave me here alone, okay?" She softened her voice. He looked from her to Sayid, but the moment his gaze met hers, they both knew that there really was _no_ competition whatsoever.

He sat down next to her, boring his gray-blue eyes into hers. "I'm not going anywhere." She stared up at him. "Okay?" He asked as he clasped his hand over hers.

"Okay." Sayid was still standing there, and she really wanted him to leave. He looked strangely touched, which was just a little weird.

Suddenly, she noticed the Korean woman heading towards them holding a few branches of some sort of plant. She approached Boone and gestured towards Shannon, motioning the plants in her hand. Then she mimed breathing, and shook the plants again.

"What? You want to give her the plants?" Boone asked. She nodded, smiling and gestured an asthma attack. Then she held up the plant to her collarbone, and breathed. "You think it will help her… breathe? What do you do with it?" She knelt down in front of Shannon, adding some other things to the plants after tearing them into small pieces, creating a strange concoction. Then she placed a glob of the cool plant on Shannon's throat, and smelled a leaf of it, gesturing towards Shannon as she hovered it over Shannon's nose. She tried to inhale it, and sensed a sweet, natural aroma from the plant. She realized that it was that stuff that Koala's ate, because in Australia, there had actually been koalas in Bridget, Brian's "friend's" yard. She smelled it, and was relieved to know that she could. "I think it's working," Boone told the Korean woman. "It's working, Shannon, you're going to be okay now." She slowly let go of his hand, trying to capture the smell of the plant again. The woman rubbed more of the stuff onto Shannon's chest. She inhaled through her nose, and then smelled the Eucalyptus… once, twice, three times, until she had lost count. She opened her mouth, inhaling. The Korean woman smiled brightly, as did Boone. "Shannon, you're breathing!" He stated the obvious.

She inhaled a few more times. "Oh my god," she smiled, the words sounding foreign in her voice. "I'm breathing normally." The Korean woman said something in Korean. She wasn't going to die! Shannon had never loved air so much in her life. She had never been so close to death before, she didn't think, because before there had always been an inhaler, or a hospital, or _something_ nearby. She continued to rub the stuff on her chest, and as Boone saw Jack nearby, he went up to him and started explaining something.

"I don't know. It's a miracle. She just showed up with that mixture. She rubbed it Shannon's chest and 10 minutes later she was breathing." He told Jack.

"Eucalyptus. Smart, Jack." Jack said to himself after realizing what the stuff was. "Thank you very, very much." He told the woman, and Shannon nodded, agreeing. She closed her eyes as she brought it towards her face again. After Jack saw that everything was okay, he left, and as her breathing became practically impeccable again, the woman slowly cleaned the Eucalyptus from Shannon's throat and started to stand up.

"Wait!" Boone said. "What's your name?" She looked quizzical. Boone pointed to himself. "Boone." Then he pointed to Shannon. "Shannon."

The woman nodded, smiling. "Sun."

Boone said, "Thank you so much. I know you can't understand me, but we are so grateful." Shannon squeezed his hand. When he smiled back at this motion, she looked away, pretending that she hadn't done it.

* * *

Shannon inhaled another fresh breath of air. She was grateful for each bit of it, from the tiny waft of it blowing against her cheek to the large amount now filtering through her lungs. She had finally summoned enough energy to stand up, wash her face, and put on her navy blue bathrobe. As she sat on the tin container she had been sitting on before the attack, Boone sat down next to her, smiling wasn't she the most precious thing in the world, breezily handing her a large water bottle. During the exchange, their hands touched across the plastic of the bottle, and she climbed her fingers over his, lingering for a moment before she took it with both hands and drank appreciatively. "Thanks," she said quietly, looking over at Jack's table of medical supplies for a few silent moments. She wondered when he would come and check on her again. She breathed a breathy sigh, playing with her fingers, which encompassed the water bottle tightly. "You know I really thought I was going to die," She examined her fingernails, cringing at the amount of dirt under them.

"You were really brave," he said sincerely. She laughed slightly. He was still, despite everything, desperately in love with her.

"Thanks," she answered. "Well, I think I can definitely add today to the ever growing volume of the Adventures of Shannon and Boone." He laughed, smiling at her contentedly.

"You know, you're really funny." He said. "God, I –" He started, but then he swallowed and looked down ashamedly.

She pretended not to notice, and continued, "Boone gets beat up by dimpled Southern pervert, defenseless towards seasoned pro four inches taller than him." She giggled, like a stupid little girl with an unrequited crush. She was confused by her affectionate behavior, but was surprised to find herself admitting that being nice wasn't actually so bad.

"Later, Shannon, unable to breathe, practically dies, but if then resurrected by the island's very own Jesus and saintly Korean woman who rubs strange leaves on x- rated places on Shannon's body." She laughed, pressing the water bottle into his chest.

"It wasn't x-rated, it was like, here!" She gestured towards her collarbone. "You're such an ass!" She said exaggeratedly. He laughed, practically giddy because she was being so fucking nice, but then he suddenly stopped, groaning.

"Shit, my ribs…" he said. " And my shoulder."

"God, Sawyer's an asshole." She related to his problem. "Let me see." She took his arm, turning it over in her hand, and pressed her fingers into his shoulder. "That hurt?" She murmured, moving forward on the makeshift seat.

"No," he looked up at her. She maintained the eye contact as she ran her fingers down his entire arm, tracing over his veins slowly. "I think it hurts right there," he whispered as their contact intensified. "There's a bruise…"

"Yeah, there is." She said, not looking down at it, and instead scooting towards him on her makeshift seat, as he appeared to do the same. She moved even closer to him, staring right into his eyes, which were wide open in wonder. They were so close that she could have counted every individual eyelash on his face. Their lips were hovering, close enough to kiss if she had cocked her head slightly.

"I think I'll be okay. I'll just move…" he gestured to his arm, "My arm, and…" His voice was barely a whisper. "I need to just…"

"Yeah," she replied, finally realizing how stupid she was acting. "Yeah," she pulled her arm back.

"I should go get Jack to check on you." He said, his voice oddly public sounding. But he didn't have to, because before he could stand up, Jack had approached them.

"Shannon, how are you doing? Your breathing okay?"

"Yeah," she answered. "I'll be fine."

"Okay," said Jack, smiling. "Make sure she stays calm," he said to Boone, and quickly exited, calling after them, "You two stay here for a while!"

"I am so incredibly fucking tired," Shannon said after he left. She wanted to occupy any silence in order to avoid awkwardness about the weird almost kiss thing that had just occurred. "We shouldn't have stayed up all night."

The corners of his lips turned up into a smirk. "No, _I_ shouldn't have." She gaped at him. She was supposed to be the audacious one!

"You are such a pervert!" She made a noise of indignation. "I hope nobody heard you say that!"

"They didn't," he said, but looked around anyway. There really wasn't anyone in the clearing, everyone was further away in a different cave altogether. She really didn't like the caves, it made her claustrophobic, and she didn't want to stay there any longer than was necessary.

"I don't like the caves. Let's go back to the beach." She grabbed his hand. "Please?" He looked at his hand, where her fingers had entwined with his. She moved her thumb so that she scratched his palm slightly, giggling a little as she repeated this with her pointer finger, pinching the loose skin next to his thumb.

"Jack said to stay here."

"He's not the boss of me." She argued, realizing how juvenile that sounded.

"He's not the boss of you?" He repeated, raising his eyebrows. How could his perfect Shannon every say something so stupid, he was probably thinking. Either that or he thought it was cute. "You know, you used to say that all the time when you first moved in." Okay, latter option. "You'd sneak cookies when you weren't supposed to, and I'd tell you, and you'd be all, 'You're not the boss of me!'" He imitated her in a squeaky little voice she was sure was not accurate. Or, she hoped. "It used to piss me off so much."

"I'm sorry," she sighed breathily, pressing her fingers into his hand like she was giving his hand a massage.

"Shannon, I know what you're doing." He told her, not moving back.

"Then why aren't you stopping me?" She whispered, like she had moments before, bringing her face closer to his.

"Maybe it's because I like you." He answered simply. She stared at him, surprised by his forwardness. She almost said something like, 'you're so cute', but decided that that might be too weird. Instead, she averted her gaze and placed her hand on his left cheek, pressing her lips into his cheek at an angle, opening her lips a little to teeth his skin a little. "Of course you do," she said, pulling back, and squeezed her hand into his again.

"Jack wants us to stay here," he started apologetically. Shannon lifted his arm and kissed the bruise that Sawyer had left there. "But I guess it wouldn't matter that much…" She kissed another bruise on his elbow, staring up at him with pleading, woeful eyes… "Wouldn't matter," she licked a cut on his jawbone, lingering her tongue just long enough. "At all…" She pulled back, triumphant. "You bitch," he said, standing up.

"I win, like always." She said lightly.

"Not _always_." He challenged.

"What? When did you win?" She asked in surprise as they started to leave.

"I'm not telling. It's part of –"

"Is it part of your roguish charm?" She smirked up at him, bending over to retrieve the water bottle from his hand.

"Actually –"

"I hate you, you know."

"No you don't," he shrugged.

"I know." She responded. "So, which way do we go?"

"Lead the way, milady." He said sarcastically.

"Chivalry's dead, Boone. Just admit the fact you don't know what the hell you're talking about." He sighed. "Ask Michael how to get there. He's somewhere over there."

"I don't – "

"Just _ask_. I know, it's like, an insult to your manhood, but I want to get to the beach!"

"Why don't _you_?"

"I just had a near death experience." Two minutes and a destroyed masculinity complex later, Shannon and Boone trudged south to the beach.

_I was going to go on, but then I realized I co__uld just stop it there. Um, please tell me your favorite lines, and favorite parts. Did you like the almost kiss thing? Summerith will know that I sort of kind of got that from the OC. There was something else I was going to say…I wrote a plan for the rest of the story, maybe I'll actually stick to it this time. If everythinggoes to plan, it will have 34 chapters total, and end after Do NoHarm. If there is anything that you can suggest for the story, please tell me, because constructive criticism is always great. Oh, if you haven't seen this picture, you should. I tend to fall out of my chair every time I look at it. __http/photos1. I want to do so many dirty things with that boy. But I'll try to keep it on the down low. : ) _

_-Marielle_


	28. The Lighter Side of The Island

**Chapter 28 - The Lighter Side of the Island**

It was just their luck that Shannon and Booneran right into Jack the moment their perfect toes hit the soft sand of the beach. "You were supposed to stay at the caves." He said, looking a little insulted that they hadn't obeyed his orders.

"Well, I thought it was more relaxing down here, and I felt better, so –" She started, but Jack interrupted her.

"No. Shannon. You needed to stay at the caves because there's water up there. I specifically told you –" Boone wordlessly held up the bottle of water he had given Shannon. "I need to get back to Sawyer." Jack shook his head distractedly and headed towards Sawyer's tent.

"What happened to Sawyer?" Shannon asked Boone as they walked off. Boone shrugged.

"Sayid tortured him, apparently." Charlie, who was just passing by, told them. He scratched behind his ear. "They thought he had your inhalers, and he wouldn't give them to Jack, so Sayid punched him and held a knife up to his eye. I heard he was like, cold blooded. Then he accidentally drove a knife into Sawyer's artery – "

"Are you making this up?" Shannon interrupted. "Are you hallucinating?"

"No!" Charlie looked taken aback. "I'm clean now."

"That's not what I – what do you mean, you're clean now?" Shannon demanded.

"Let's stay on one topic, can we?" Charlie responded. "So after that happened, Jack bandaged him up and Sayid left to go chart the island. And because he was ashamed for what he did. I don't know, Kate told me everything. Well, mostly everything, she wouldn't tell me all of it. But man, did she look bloody concerned."

"Oh my god," Boone breathed. "All of that happened today?"

"Apparently!" Charlie said brightly, looking onto the ocean. "My day, on the other hand, was bloody brilliant."

"Well did he have the inhalers?" She prodded, indifferent towards Charlie's "bloody brilliant" day.

"Oh," Charlie said. "Kate made out with him because he said he'd tell her. He didn't have them after all." He shrugged. "Have you seen Claire?"

"Um, no." Shannon answered, alienated by how strange Charlie was. Boone, on the other hand, looked rather amused.

"Well, I should probably get going, we're moving to the caves." Charlie squinted. "Why don't you guys move to the caves?"

Shannon and Boone started talking at the same time. "We didn't – " she started.

"They said – " He began.

"For when the rescue boat comes – "

"Like the sun –"

"so we didn't move to the caves – "

"No, what? We – "

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Charlie interrupted. "So, how was that fish I caught?" He changed the subject.

"It was good," answered Boone slowly. Honestly, the fish had been so fucking good that she had given the fine chef a really, really good blow job. For like, a really long time. _Don't blush, don't blush_… she told herself.

"Why's your face all red?" Asked Charlie. Score. "Ah, there's Claire, I should go." He waved to the small pregnant woman, who waved back brightly. She walked over.

"Hey, Shannon, I heard you had an asthma attack. Better, I presume?" She smiled.

"Yeah, thanks." Shannon answered.

"Why have you got blood on your shirt?" Claire asked Boone.

"Oh," Boone looked down at his shirt. He had still been recovering from Charlie's fish question, with this hilariously vacant expression on his face. "Blood on my shirt…" he repeated, trying to bring himself back to the current situation. "Oh, Sawyer beat me up." He said nonchalantly.

"What? _Why_?" Claire asked in surprise.

"Oh, it's a long story. I was looking for Shannon's asthma inhalers and I thought that Sawyer had them, so I looked in his stuff, and he found me and beat me up."

"Oh my god! Did he have them?" Claire asked.

"No, luv," said Charlie. "Kate made out with him because she thought he had them. But he didn't."

"Kate made out with Boone?" Claire exclaimed. "Have you even talked to her before?"

"No!" Claire gaped. "I mean, no, I didn't make out with her, and no, I haven't talked to her."

"So, I heard Sayid like, left or something." Shannon said. "Did you hear anything about that?"

"No…" said Claire. "I'm so behind on island gossip, aren't I? The only thing I heard was that some person over there heard some people making out last night."

Shannon gasped, but quickly regained composure. She shrugged, "Great."

"So what happened with Sayid?" Claire asked Shannon curiously.

"He tortured Sawyer and jutted a knife into his artery."

"What? Where is he?" Claire panicked.

"Sawyer?" They all said in unison.

"Yeah, I'll go see how he's doing," Claire answered.

"He's in Jack's tent," Boone told her. Charlie looked rather infuriated.

"Why do you want to visit Sawyer?" He demanded.

"Ah, calm down Charlie, I just want to see how he is." Claire calmed the small hyper man next to her.

"I'll come too," Charlie volunteered, but before Claire could object, he was already heading over there.

"I should go," she said, and wobbled over towards Charlie. Just then, Shannon dropped the bottle of water and bent over to retrieve it.

"Boone," she said sharply, "Eyes." He looked away towards a random tree, a much less interesting sight, blushing furiously.

That evening, they had fish again, but this time Hurley had cooked it, so it wasn't like, prize winning. Hurley, Shannon, Boone and Claire sat around the fire, quietly munching on their fairly small pieces of fish. They either ate their fish on a stick like a kabob, or on one of the tray tables or food trays from the plane. They were all quite calm, no one really made any noises, except when Claire sneezed and when Shannon stole a piece of guava off of Boone's plate, licking her fingers afterwards to tantalize him a little and have some fun watching him try to control himself. "The guavas are really good," she remarked to the circle. Hurley agreed passionately as he took his tray, heading back up to the caves before it got dark. Shannon moaned in delight as she chomped on another piece of it. Boone glared at her. "Seriously, Boone, they're really good. Here, try one. Open." He opened his mouth, and she popped a piece of guava into his mouth. "Tell me that's good." She demanded.

"It's good," he agreed. Claire was now looking at them rather curiously, so Shannon decided against wiping the dribble of guava juice off of his chin. If they had been alone, she probably would have licked it off. See, even if they weren't kind of brother and sister, other people might still find some of their habits a bit strange.

Just then, Walt and Michael sat down next to Charlie. "Hey," Michael said, taking a piece of fish and putting on a kabob.

"Hi," Claire responded in a friendly tone. Everyone else just sort of grunted. "The guavas are quite good, you should try some." She told Walt.

Walt looked gloomy and looked at the ground. "I don't like guavas," he said.

"Oh. Oh, okay." Claire answered, her voice defensive.

"I like guavas," said Michael, nudging his son. "I'll take one."

"Okay," said Boone. He handed a guava to Michael.

"Thanks. So, I see you two made it back to the beach?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"That's funny, because Jack asked me a few minutes later if I'd seen you guys."

"Oh," said Boone.

"He was pretty upset that you left."

"I know, he yelled at us when we got to the beach." Shannon admitted.

"Oh." An awkward silence pervaded the circle.

"You don't look like brother and sister," Walt suddenly said.

"Well we are," Boone assured him. Where had Walt's sudden outburst come from?

"You look nothing alike though." Walt prodded.

"Look kid," Shannon started, "There's plenty of reasons why we might not look alike, okay? But we're brother and sister and I think it's really _stupid_ that you're making a big deal about this!"

"Shannon, calm down," Boone told her. Claire looked taken aback.

"Alright, I'm sorry, I won't say anything any more." Walt looked down, rolling his eyes.

"Now you hurt his feelings," Boone told Shannon. "Good job. I'm sorry," he said to Michael, apologizing for Shannon's behavior.

"Why are you apologizing for me?" Shannon asked sharply.

"Just _drop_ it," he groaned.

"What if I don't _want _to drop it?" Now Walt was looking at them with some sort of fascination.

"Walt, you are really lucky you don't have a sister." Boone told Walt.

"I always wanted a sibling. I got Vincent instead. Where _is_ Vincent?"

"I just had his leash," Michael looked around, distracted.

"We have to go find him!" Walt exclaimed.

"I guess we'll be going," said Michael, as he and his walked away, frantically searching for their dog.

Then it was just Claire, Boone, and Shannon sitting around the fire. Shannon was still glowering over Walt, and Claire looked at both of them. When Claire looked at them, the reflection of the fire shone in her eyes, and they flickered like fireflies. It was more of an intense stare than a look – Boone's eyes had a similar effect. When he watched her, if her back was to him, she could flaunt herself and act as distant or as flirty as she wanted, but it was harder when they were looking at each other. It was harder to control herself when he stared with his almond, truth seeking eyes, and she wanted to melt into his arms and tell him everything that she was too cowardly to say to him. But she always had the upper hand when it came to controlling herself.

"I don't think we're going to get rescued anytime soon," Claire noted forlornly. "I'm tired of being pregnant, but I don't want to have the baby here on the island. I think my body is ready, but I'm just… not."

Boone looked at her, surprised by her sudden declaration. "Do you –"

"I'm not married." She anticipated his question. "I don't know why I'm telling you this, but… I was going to put the baby up for adoption. Does that make me completely terrible?"

"No," Boone said firmly. "You're not terrible at all."

"You don't even know me, I mean, I could be a murderer and you might not know it!" She exclaimed. Boone looked into the fire. "Sorry," Claire apologized, "Pregnancy hormones."

"It's fine," he said.

"What does it feel like?" Shannon asked curiously, "Being pregnant? Like how do you know?"

"I was in denial. I was a full _six weeks_ late before I even thought of buying a test," Claire admitted. "Some of Thomas's friends were smoking, and… I just got so nauseated by it…"

"Thomas?"

"My boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend, that is."

"Thomas?" She repeated. "Thomas what?"

"Thomas McNear." Claire wrinkled up her nose as she said his name.

"Are you kidding?" Shannon widened her eyes. "You lived in Sydney?"

"Yeah, why, do you know him?"

"Yeah, I do. He was friend's with my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend." Shannon responded, shocked.

"That's crazy!" Claire laughed. "So what'd yours do?"

"Um," Shannon looked down. "It's kind of a long story."

"Oh, that's okay. Mines a bit personal, too." She stretched. "My back hurts so much. All this weight on my stomach…" she rubbed her stomach.

Shannon looked toward Boone, and she didn't know what her reasoning was, but the next words out of her mouth were, "Boone gives really good back massages, don't you?"

He gave her his signature 'what the hell' look. "Um, sure?" Shannon wondered why she had volunteered her own personal sex slave to touch another girl.

"Oh really? That would be great!" Claire exclaimed. "You don't have to, though, if you don't want to."

But Boone was polite. "Oh no, it's fine." He said uneasily, sending Shannon a death glare. He scooted towards the log where Claire was sitting at, sitting behind her, but keeping a significant distance. "Where does it hurt, mainly?" He asked.

"Well, um, in the shoulders, kind of in the back of my stomach. Claire obviously did not realize how fucking awkward this was. Boone smiled self-deprecatingly. Shannon watched as he touched Claire's shoulders, and some sort of strange twinge developing in her stomach. _Not jealous, not jealous_, she chorused in her head, after all, she had put him up to this. But thank god Claire was wearing a long sleeve shirt. He rubbed up and down her back respectfully, straying very far from her lower back. Then he dug into her shoulder blades a little deeper, and Shannon had to look away. If this was her, she would be moaning by now. So much for self control.

He pressed into her skin, really working out the knots and kinks in her back. "Does that hurt?" He asked her in a completely normal tone.

"No, it's _good_." She drew out the vowels in the word good, but that was the only thing that she expressed her pleasure with.

"You're really tight in your shoulders," he told her.

"I know I am… you're really helping, though." She assured him. He rubbed up and down her back again, this time pressing into her mid-back. He drummed it with the sides of his hands, then pinching her skin and revolving his palm slowly around again. He commenced the massage with a final squeeze of her shoulders. Claire stretched. "Boone, thank you so much. That was really good. You could start your own little island massage business. I need to head up to the caves, me and Charlie have a deal, I told him I'd move up there."

"Do you need help getting there? It's pretty dark." Boone asked.

"No, no," Claire answered brightly. "Charlie will help me, he's right over there." Shannon was glad that Charlie had appeared now as opposed to about a minute ago. "Thanks again, bye!" She waved as she waddled off.

"Boone," she demanded the moment she was gone. "I want one, now."

"Okay, just wait until we're at our spot." He acquiesced.

Minutes later, she was sitting cross-legged on an airline blanket, and he was kneeling behind her, tickling up and down her back, straying a little bit to the front at certain opportune moments. He was breathing heavily into her neck, she was shivering with her eyes closed. She arched her back so that he was flush against her, and he was rubbing fervently up and down her bare arms. Shannon sucked her breath in, grabbing his hand when it reached hers. But he broke away, vying rather to move back and knead into her sides. He ran his hand across the top seam of her skirt, hooking his thumb between her skin and her skirt and her underwear. He pressed into her skin exactly at her tailbone – she bit her tongue and swore under her breath. He moved his hand back up to her shoulders, finally beginning to kiss her, beginning at her cheek and kissing down to her collarbone, finally resting at her lower neck. Next came her favorite part – he graduated to sucking at her neck, teething subtly. When she moaned, she hoped no one noticed.

They were quite far from most people, though, Kate and Sayid's areas were hundreds of yards away, and Sawyer's tent was the closest. Now he was running his hands up and down her torso, concentrating on the indent of her waist, and tracing over her ribs. She knew what he was thinking, but he hoped that he wouldn't say anything. Not now, anyway. "Does that hurt?" He asked, breathless, not indifferent like he had with Claire.

"Mmmmm," she replied, "Noooooooo."

"Want me to keep going?" He hadn't stopped really, he simply had his hands rounded over her shoulder blades and was revolving his hands slowly.

"Yes," she hissed, "Please?"

He continued to do what he had been doing – not really a massage, more of a fondling –fest, she decided. He was breathing directly into her ear now, sometimes whispering dirty things that she wasn't quite sure she heard, but mostly all she felt was his hot breath inhaling and exhaling rhythmically into her neck, which was now coated in a thin layer of sweat. He pulled her hair back, teasing the straps of her shirt slowly down her shoulders so that he could "massage" without the hindrance of the straps. Without something holding the shirt up, it sloped down her shoulders, providing more cleavage than had been there before. And he definitely took advantage of this, rocking her back and forth and cupping her breasts. He somehow managed to do this without seeming like a total pervert.

She could barely even stand it now, she was shivering uncontrollably now – he turned her on _that_ much, god, when had she gotten so pathetic? When had he gotten so self-assured? She was just about to suggest sex when his hands found their place again, creeping up her back and pinching her shoulders tantalizingly, but then pulling back. She rotated her head in a circle, and he as he backed away, her hair hit her shoulders again, and she rather futilely flicked her bra straps somewhat into place.

"Whoowee!" They heard someone call. _Shit_, she thought, but it was only Sawyer. He had been sitting fairly nearby, how had they not noticed, and now he was looking up from some magazine. "Who needs this when I've got you guys live?" He tossed the magazine (Playboy) aside. Shannon rolled her eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be almost dead or something?" Boone yelled towards him.

"Aren't you not supposed to put your grubby little hands in my stuff, son?" He retorted.

Shannon shook a piece of stray hair off of her face, turning around to face Sawyer. "What?" she sneered at the expression on his face.

"Sticks…" Sawyer cat-called. "Damn, if I do say so, I think I might be a wee bit jealous of your … pal over there…" Shannon looked down. Her shirt straps had sure enough slipped down her shoulders again, and apparently, so had her bra. She quickly secured everything, putting her legs to one side to prevent a full view up her skirt.

"Boone hand me your sweater," she ordered in one breath. He handed her his gray sweater, and she put it over her head.

"It's okay," Sawyer said exaggeratedly, "Sticks, how about you come into my humble a-dob-ee and I give you a 'massage' as well?"

"How about you shut the hell up before I punch your face in?" Shannon responded coolly. Sawyer smirked and opened his mouth, but Shannon cut him off. "And if you're about to make some comment about how you like your girls feisty, I think you should _save it_."

Sawyer looked amused. "Sure thing, Sweet Cheeks, I'll just get back to my reading." He held up the magazine, which portrayed a slutty looking redhead with big boobs, and flipped to the middle. "Pretty boy, if you want this, you may have to give up your girl for a night." Boone gaped at him, speechless.

_Um, oops. See, that wasn't supposed to happen. I'm sort of a chapter behind now. Oops. I guess this thing is going to be 35 chapters. The next chapter is going to be fun because it is Solitary (this one was supposed to be) and they go to the golf game. I really like them during that scene, like the "sunscreen, dumbass" exchange. Ah, good times. _

_So anyway, this turned out to scream FILLER, but I hope you liked it anyway. Did you like the Shoone back massage? Was it hot? If not, what could I have done to make it so? Did you like the thing with Claire? Because I have no idea why I put it there. Also, tell me which lines you liked/didn't like. _

_Oh, originally this chapter had something else in it, what I'm going to do is make the chapter after the story is over sort of a deleted scenes chapter, because there are actually quite a few scenes I wrote and liked but that didn't quite fit into the context. Thanks, and please review!__Oh, and the link to the Boone picture is _http/photos1.


	29. More Fun Games to Play than Golf

**Chapter 29 – There are More Fun Games to Play Than Golf **

"You know," she whispered, turning over to face him, "I'm really glad you were here today." She smiled, watching shadows creeping across his face. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"Done what?"

"Breathed. You helped me a lot. I mean, if you weren't here, I probably wouldn't have tried so hard." She caressed his cheek with her hand, and then moved her hands into his.

He wrinkled his forehead. "What do you mean, you wouldn't have tried so hard?"

"I mean like, I wouldn't have had motivation." She spoke softly.

"You would have rather died?" He asked, sounding concerned.

"No," she lied, "Never mind." She turned away from him huffily, but neither one was particularly surprised when they woke up the next morning in each other's arms.

Once she had gotten dressed, with a striped blue and yellow bikini underneath, she sat down cross-legged, with her makeup bag in her lap. As she stared at her reflection, carefully lining kohl around her eyes, she suddenly saw Boone in her mirror behind her. He sat down next to her.

"Don't mess up, don't mess up, don't mess up," he murmured jokingly, leaning into her ear.

"Boone," she half-laughed, pulling back the eye pencil. "Stop!"

She began on the other eye. "Don't mess up," he warned in a singsong voice.

She ignored him. "Do you remember the time when I made you wear eyeliner?"

"Unfortunately." He winced, remembering the embarrassing occasion.

"You looked _so_ hot…" she noted carelessly.

"Did I really?"

"Yup." She replaced the cap onto her eyeliner and put it in one of the compartments and brushed on some white sparkly eye shadow. He looked at her some more. In some ways it was unnerving, but in other ways, it was rather flattering. It made her feel special, and, well, loved. Needed.

He watched for a while longer as she lined her lips with gloss. Finally, looking fed up, he blurted out, "God, you're gorgeous." She smirked, screwing up her lip-gloss, ignoring him as he walked away.

In desperation, Shannon found herself flipping through the Oceanic Airlines onboard shopping catalog. Damn, she so missed the world of materialism. When she got home, she thought to herself, she was going to buy a bunch of really pointless stuff, like an electric nutshell opener or a vintage slot machine. She and Boone used to always fawn over these catalogs on air planes once they got over their initial fear, especially when they were kids, ooooohing and ahhhhing over every single copper plated Golden Retriever doorstop and light-detecting doggie door opener. But after a while they would lose interest, and Shannon would watch whatever idiotic chick flick they were showing, and Boone would flip through the in-flight radio channels. God, she hated planes.

"I couldn't find you," Boone said, materializing beside her sometime later. Shannon had moved her towel to a shadier area – the sun was just too fucking bright, and was now spread out on her stomach, still flipping through that dumb magazine.

"Well obviously you did," she didn't look up.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

"No," she told him, but he put a banana on her towel anyway. She removed her swimsuit cover up (his eyes widened) and stretched out into the sand, laying her head in the sand and closing her eyes. "Do I look hungry?"

"Um," he stared at her skeletal body. "Yeah. So, where's the swimsuit?"

"Ha ha, very funny," she responded. "If you're good, maybe I'll let you take it off," she added suggestively.

"What are you reading?" He asked. "Oh, one of those stupid things. I hate those. I mean, what is the point of having sneakers with timers on them?"

"When did you see that?" She asked lazily, turning over onto his knee so that she was on her back and facing him. When she saw Kate steal a look at them, however, she rolled off. "Well it might be sort of cool to time yourself while you were running or something."

"But it wouldn't be accurate, because you would have to reach down to get to your shoe to stop and start it."

"You think too much, Boone." She flipped a page in the magazine. "Oh, look at this one! It's a bathtub with speakers! Oh Boonie, will you buy _this_ for me?" She squealed sarcastically.

"Whatever your little heart desires," he played along, creeping his fingers down her thigh briefly. "You are so tan," he noted.

"Like it?" she asked.

"I like it now, but no one's going to like it when you're dying of skin cancer at age forty."

Her face dropped. "We're running out of sunscreen, too!" She whined. "They should create a make-your-own sunscreen kit, and they could airdrop it right here, right now!" She continued in a chirpy tone. She rolled onto her back over his leg again. "What do you think?"

He looked down at her. "If they were going to air-drop something here, couldn't they just take us with them?"

"Imagine how your mother would react if she saw us arriving in a sunscreen helicopter. In Los Angeles of all places."

He smiled tightly. Realizing this was a sensitive topic, she changed the subject. "I think it's interesting that Los Angeles means 'city of angels' because I read a statistic that Los Angeles has more prostitutes that any other city in the world."

"Well, no wonder you live there then?"

"No wonder you live there. You're such a whore, Boone." She smiled. "But you're not ghetto enough to be a pimp." She rolled off of him and giggled.

"Well aren't you cute?" He deadpanned.

"Oh go away." She dismissed. But he was back again sooner than she expected.

"You'll never believe this," he squatted next to her towel minutes later.

"You learned how to tie your own shoes?" She retorted.

"Funny," he smirked. "Someone at the caves built a golf course." A fucking golf course? What was his idea of a joke?

"Are you high?" She asked.

"Seriously, a golf course," he looked towards Kate, smiling. "Jack's playing right now."

"Jack?" Kate asked in disbelief as Shannon closed her magazine and began to sit up. "Is golfing?"

"That's what I hear," Boone shrugged, still smiling like a fool. But he didn't smile very much, and Shannon loved it when he did. Especially the goofy grin, she kind of secretly found it adorable. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to go check this out." He told Shannon, standing up.

She stood up, grabbing her cover up. "Wait for me, bonehead!" She yelled after him, following him across the beach. She clutched onto his t-shirt right as they passed Sawyer, stopping him. "Boone. Slow down, I have to put this on!"

"Hey there, Barbie and Ken," Sawyer smirked as she slipped the blue sarong over her shoulders. "Need any help getting that on?"

"I'm fine, actually," she rolled her eyes at the new nickname.

"Get any sleep last night?" He asked.

"Yes," she said through clenched teeth, "I did."

When they arrived at a high grassy area, Jack was just getting ready to hit a ball. "Ugh," he exclaimed, but Hurley had another opinion.

"I think you just stuck it," he said.

"Lucky, lucky," Charlie shook his head, like he actually had a chance at winning. Shannon hadn't ever actually seen much golf played before, but she noticed that everyone else was clapping politely, so she did the same thing. Jack went off to talk with Kate, and as some other guy hit the ball, Shannon moved towards Boone.

"So, you're not high?" She asked quietly, as not to break the golfer's concentration.

He shrugged, smiling. "Guess not."

"Damn, that would have been pretty funny."

"Look, Hurley's going." The extremely large man, with a headband tied around his hair, was getting ready to swing, the tiny, dorky Charlie as his… whatever those things were called. "Charlie's the caddy," Boone seemed to read her mind.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes. Hurley hit the ball about three inches.

"Aw crap!" He exclaimed. "Do over!"

"It's a Mulligan," Charlie corrected. "It's a gentleman's sport, you have to get the wording right." Shannon wondered if Charlie's Grandfather had taught him everything he knew in golf as well as fishing. "You want to…" Charlie went behind Hurley to help him perfect his failing swing.

"Let me," Hurley argued. But Charlie attempted to wrap his arms around Hurley's massive form. "Get away!" Shannon couldn't help laughing. She looked over at Boone, who was trying to stop from laughing as well, failing miserably.

"All right," said Charlie, moving. "You're breathing out. When you go up…" In a huff, Hurley dropped the golf club. "Michael, your turn," Charlie told Michael. He said something to his son and went up to the par, not noticing that Walt was wandering off. Shannon's father had been like that. He always told her to do stuff, and she would just sort of wander off, somehow getting lost and crying afterwards. Her father bought her nice toys to make up for it, but then he would do it again, and Shannon would like to get lost so that she could get more toys. So much for that theory. Jack came back from talking to Kate, standing to the right of Shannon. Some other person was standing next to Shannon, but Boone kept stealing looks at her. She pretended not to notice.

After Michael hit, Charlie went. He kneeled to the ground, lining up the ball with the club. Everyone chuckled. "Guys, please," Charlie admonished, loving the attention. "I've never made par on a golf course before." He hit it, but the ball didn't even reach the first hole. "Ah! No!"

"Dude, you were robbed." Hurley said.

"Bollocks! See that?" Charlie whined. He handed the club to Jack.

"No pressure," Kate told him.

"Yeah, no pressure," Charlie muttered darkly.

"Five bucks says he sinks it," Hurley said. Jack frowned at him.

"You betting against me?" Charlie asked.

"Sorry dude," Hurley responded, "but you're a duffer like me."

"Make it ten," said Boone.

"I don't have any cash, but I bet my dinner on the doc!" Called out a stringy older guy (Sullivan?).

"I got two tubes of sunscreen and a flashlight says he chokes," someone said. It was Sawyer, surprisingly enough. Some people smiled at him, but most people glared, including Boone, who hadn't forgiven Sawyer for beating him up or his comments from last night. Shannon glowered at him for the same reasons.

"I'll take that action," said Kate.

"Yeah, me too," said Boone, looking down.

"You just bet on Jack, dumbass." Shannon told him. God, he was an idiot!

"We need the sunscreen, Princess," he responded. Jack hit the ball. And missed.

"Oh my god!" She squealed. "We win the sunscreen!" While sunscreen wasn't exactly the greatest thing on earth, it was definitely preferable to burning to a crisp in the sun without aloe vera to put on afterwards.

"Hey, what about me?" Kate said. "I bet against him, too. How about I get one of the sunscreens and the flashlight, and you get the other."

"Fine," Boone shrugged. "I already have a flashlight."

Sawyer handed the tube of sunscreen to Shannon, and the other one and a flashlight to Kate. Jack looked up, defeated.

"How about another game tomorrow?" Kate suggested.

"Sounds good to me," said Hurley. Shannon looked at the sunscreen. She was surprised that it actually wasn't the cheapest brand, and it was waterproof and sweat proof.

"What do you say?" Boone said to Shannon. "Not such a dumbass after all, am I?"

"I'm sorry," she told him sarcastically. He smiled, and she tried not to smile back, but ended up doing so anyway. And it wasn't a particularly sister-like smile. But then again, neither was his. Then she realized for the billionth time just about how hot he was. She didn't try to stop herself very much when she found herself checking him out (like he wasn't doing the same thing, she thought), from his messy, chestnut colored hair, to those amazing, deep grayish blue eyes, to his toned, tan arms. Shannon had a weird pet peeve about arms on guys – she couldn't stand stringy, skinny arms like Charlie's, for example. She also looked in some other places that she probably shouldn't have.

Mostly everyone else had begun to leave, and the only person besides them who hadn't yet was Sawyer. "Sticks," he said to her, but she barely took any notice. "If you want people to think that you're brother and sister, quit staring at each other like you want to rip each other's clothes off."

"Bye, Sawyer," Boone said, not averting his stare.

"What, no thank you for the sunscreen?" He looked at the tube clutched in Shannon's hand. "I'll have you know, yours is more expensive than the stuff I gave Kate."

"But you like Kate," Shannon said, finally looking up.

Sawyer shrugged. "I'm just saying, Sticks, you ought to be nicer to people."

"Go away," she looked back at Boone, who quickly turned his eyes away from hers. Sawyer moseyed away, whistling nonchalantly. The moment he turned the corner, Boone walked up to Shannon, his arms around her waist, and kissed her. She kissed back, but then had other ideas. "Follow me," she pulled back, and they walked in the correct direction back. As soon as they reached an area where there were two trees a few feet off the path, she walked towards him slowly, still clutching the tube of sunscreen in her hands.

Crashing him into the tree, she wrapped both arms around his neck and clasped them together behind him. Before he could even breathe, she was rubbing her body up against his, kissing him deeply. He placed his hands over her hipbones, pressing his thumbs into them. She repositioned her hands so that they were pushed into the back of his neck, leaving white marks that would disappear momentarily, dropping the sunscreen from her hands. She hung from his neck, scrambling to keep herself standing up as she lowered herself down his body. Finally, she had to let go of her grip, collapsing onto her knees in front of him. "Hi." She said simply.

"Oh shit," he gasped, realizing what she was planning to do.

She smiled mischievously up at him, grapping the sunscreen again from the ground. She flipped it over, examining the label, pretending to deeply concentrate.

"What are you doing?" He asked, bending over to sit next to her.

"No." She pushed him back into the tree. "You stay there." She pressed him into the tree, arching her spine to kiss him as fully as possible, gripping her feet around his legs. But then she started sliding down again, hanging onto the seam of his jeans, skimming her hands over the belt loops, forcing them down a bit. Then, just to annoy him, she pretended to lose her balance and fall on her hands and knees again, right below him. Like, right below him.

"You sure you want to –" he started, so she stood up again and covered his mouth.

"Shut up!" She ordered. "Now I have to start over." She slid her hands up under his shirt and back out again. She giggled spitefully. She grabbed his wrists and pulled herself down again. This time he didn't say anything. "Did you learn your lesson, Boone?" She whispered, into his ear, licking the corner of it seductively.

"Yeah," he muttered, getting a little anxious. "Please don't play with me, Shannon, just do it, okay?"

"You are so weak," she sing-songed. "So very, very weak."

"Look, do you want your fucking sunscreen or not?" He tried to sound annoyed, but it wasn't working, because she was still right up against him, breathing into his neck just right. Suddenly, she felt this really weird tingly feeling, and pulled back in realization.

"Boone! Did you just pinch my ass?" She asked in disbelief.

What?" He looked guilty.

"You heard me, Boone."

"Is that bad?" He looked like a petrified bunny.

"No, it was just a bit… unexpected."

"Then can I do it again?" He asked eagerly.

"Boone, why do you have to be so fucking adorable?" She whined into his chest. She looked up and kissed him again, their tongues finding a rhythm in which to touch. Then she felt him pinch her again, and she couldn't help but shiver, and drop the tube of sunscreen.

"Oops," she breathed, her mouth forming an innocent o. She looked at the sunscreen, which she had coincidentally dropped between his legs. "Guess I'd better pick it up."

"Just ignore it…" he begged. She didn't. Instead, she bent over again, grabbing the sunscreen and sliding up his body again.

"So what should I do with this?" She asked in a perfectly normal tone, like she wasn't up against him feeling the ever apparent evidence of his erection.

"Shannon, what the fuck?" He said. And okay, she felt a little bad, so she started making the first effort to take off his shirt. She pulled it over his arms so that it was bunched up around his neck, and he pulled back for a second to finish taking it off. She dropped down to her hands and knees again, reaching up to unbutton the top button on his pants. He breathed a sigh of relief. But if he had thought that there wasn't any more waiting around, he was wrong. Now she was untying his shoes, but after a few moments, he basically kicked off the shoes himself, shrugging off his pants along with them after the hasty flick of a zipper. Shoving her hands down the front of his boxers, she inched them down his legs, but finally, even she couldn't stand the anxiety she was causing him, and as she placed her hands on his knees, she finally started.

As she moved her mouth around him, she was highly amused to hear him not sigh, but whimper as a reaction. She licked down it, pressing her fingernails higher and higher up his legs until they were up near his thighs. She sucked as hard as she could, like she had in Sydney, and glossing her tongue over him. "Shannon," he moaned.

"Mm?" She responded, not moving her lips from where they were. She rolled her lips over him again, using her teeth a little bit to intensify the experience.

"Holy fucking god," he whispered, barely audible.

"Don't say the lord's name in vain, Boone. She pulled back. "We all know that you're such a – "She sucked some more, "Incredibly – " he was so unbelievably hard, "good sinner, don't we?"

"Yes," he answered, not really sure what he was agreeing to. She continued to gasp and teeth and lick until he was astonishingly close, and then sucked so hard she forgot to breathe, and when he came, practically screaming, she pulled away, parched and desperate to obtain air. As soon as she had caught her breath, though, she repositioned herself and started to stand up.

"Okay?" She asked, but he was still recovering. "Do you have any water?" He wheezed, also completely out of breath.

"Water," he repeated as his first words post-climax. "Let's get some water." She started coughing as he pulled up his boxers and then his pants.

"I hope you enjoyed that, pervert," she managed, "Because you're never getting it again."

"You said that last time," he smirked, picking up the sunscreen, making the first effort to leave.

"Boone!" She called after him, "Don't I get a turn? Pretty, pretty please?"

"Now?" He asked her, taken aback.

"Uh, yeah," she rolled her eyes. Wasn't it obvious?

"Holy shit, do you know what time it is?" He was leaning against the tree again, his lack of shirt definitely a source of temptation for Shannon.

"No," she whimpered, wrapping her arms around him.

"Shannonnnnn," he whined, "Don't… not again…"

"Then give me a turn, okay?" she begged. "Please…"

He sighed. "Fine." She threw off her aqua swimsuit cover up.

* * *

Shannon and Boone were standing on the edge of the beach, looking at the dark sky and the groups sitting around fires in the sand. "What are we going to say?" She hissed. "When they ask where we were?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "We could tell them that we –"

"Hey," said Kate, walking by them. "Where have you guys been?"

"Um," Shannon bit her lip. "This is a little embarrassing, but…" Boone looked petrified. Oh please, like she was stupid enough to tell the truth! "We sort of went the wrong way, and it took him like, an hour to figure it out."

"Oh," said Kate. "Okay." She continued walking. "You guys get lost a lot, don't you?"

"I have a terrible sense of direction," Boone said.

"Maybe it runs in the family or something!" Kate smiled and walked off. Boone breathed a sigh of relief. They walked towards the fire they had been at last night.

"I can't fucking walk Shannon," he whispered hoarsely. "It's all your – oh, hi, Michael."

He had just appeared right next to them. "Hey, where you guys been?" Shannon rolled her eyes.

_Hehehehehehe, lalalalala! Sorry, really hyper. I know that it is extremely strange that I'm about to submit a chapter at 2:00 on a Saturday. Also, this chapter is really choppy. When I just updated like, yesterday.Shouldn't I be out somewhere having a life? _

_Anyway, please tell me what you liked/didn't like. It was supposed to be funny, so I hope it was somewhat. Did you like the thing with Boone blurting out how gorgeous she was? Or… (skims through chapter) … the SkyMall references? Because those things really do annoy me. Okay, fine, I'll get to the point. Did you like the dirty island blow job? I think I totally messed it up, but I've been planning it for a while. Did you like the Sawyer stuff? Okay, I'll shut up. Maybe I should get dressed. I'm still wearing my pajamas and it is now 2:02 PM. Writing about Shoone makes me feel ugly. But then again, it probably makes everyone feel ugly. _


	30. The Island's Danger

_Author's Note: Sorry, I decided to combine Chapter's 30 and 31, but if I replaced the content of Chapter 30 with the content of both chapters, alerts wouldn't be sent. So, what I did was just leave this chapter blank, basically. Sorry, I know that's muy annoying. _

_HAPPY SHOONE DAY ON WEDNESDAY 12/14!_


	31. Fright and Confessions

**Chapter 31 - Fright and Confessions (First half is not new content)**

She didn't know what time it was when she heard a series of shrill, ear-piercing screams, and she didn't know what had happened. All she knew was that someone was screaming like they were being murdered – maybe it was her imagination, or maybe it was that monster who's threat was always looming in the jungle.

"What the hell is that?" She said to him.

"Wha's… what?" He responded sleepily.

"Don't you hear that? The screams?"

"What screams?" He sat up now, his voice laden with concern. "I don't hear anything."

"Do you think I'm making it up? Do you think I'm crazy?"

"No, Shannon, I don't think that you're crazy. In fact, I think that if there are people screaming, we should probably move to the caves."

Shannon sighed. "This thing about the caves you keep mentioning, you know we can't do that!"

"Why?"

"Because we're not quiet enough, you know that." She answered harshly. "Go back to bed, Boone, I'm probably just completely crazy." She finished scathingly.

"No – Shannon –"

"Just go to bed." She turned over, her arms tightly crossed over her shoulders.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Hell yes, I'm mad at you!" She sniffed. "I know I heard what I heard. Someone was screaming, okay? Why won't you believe me?"

"I believe you."

"You're just saying that to shut me up." She answered stubbornly.

"No I'm – Shannon, what the hell do you want me to do?"

"I don't know. God, when the fuck are we going to get rescued? I just want to get back to L.A!" She whined. "None of this creepy monster crap straight from the Sci-Fi channel, why can't it just go back to –"

"To the way it was?" He imitated her words from Sydney. "I'll just tell my mom I rescued you just like I always do, because that's what I always have to fucking do, Shannon, okay? So just shut the hell up and go to sleep, and maybe I don't believe you, but it's because you can be a little melodramatic!"

"Can I be delusional as well?" She asked pointedly. "I'm just sick and twisted and insane, right?"

"Yeah, basically." He turned over in a huff.

"Boone," she said.

"What?"

"When we get back to L.A., it doesn't have to go back."

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean like, we could be something." He turned back over, smiling strangely.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean like, something normal. Like brother and sister." This hadn't been what she had been trying to say, she was going to say that they could really have a relationship, with talking and dinner and the whole nine yards, but it didn't come out that way.

"Like brother and sister."

"The kind that doesn't have sex." She said, her words biting into the cold air. He didn't respond. "Boone," she repeated. "I didn't mean it that way. I mean, like – "

"I know what you mean Shannon. You want it to be the way that will be easiest for you, so you can do whatever the hell you want with me, touch me and hurt me and manipulate me whenever the hell you want, as long as it doesn't get in the way too much. Because I'm just your dumb little toy."

"No…" she whispered, tears coming to her eyes. She kissed the side of his face softly. "You are so much more than that… I mean, you're like, the only one rooting for me, you know? I really didn't mean what I said just now. Forget it, okay?" She placed a butterfly kiss on his neck and turned over.

"'Night, Shan."

"'Night, Boone." She still felt guilty, so a few breaths later, she said, "Boone?"

"What?"

"We can move to the caves tomorrow?"

"Um, why?"

"Those screams… Jack could be right about it being safer."

"Okay," he said.

"Okay," she snuggled into him and closed her eyes, Claire's screams altogether forgotten.

The next day, Shannon was preparing to walk to the caves, tossing her hairbrush, nail polish remover, and novelty gift magazine from the plane into Boone's duffel bag. Their stuff had sort of meshed – often he looked in her bag for things to wear before he even looked in his own. And if somebody went through the bag with the tag that said Boone Carlyle would probably think that Boone Carlyle was a cross dresser.

Just then, Hurley approached her. "Hey, we're doing like a census of the people on the island and stuff. Can I get your information?" He asked, a small notepad in his hands.

___"_You want my information. Name: Shannon Rutherford, Age: 20, Address: Craphole Island," she sneered.

"Right. So uh, where were you guys last night." Shannon's face stiffened. Boone looked a little uncomfortable as well.

"Um, the beach." Well they had been, after like, seven.

"Why the interrogation?" Boone asked, in his signature getting-all-political voice.

"You're like the 20th person to ask me that. Why is everyone so uptight about answering a few questions?" Hurley responded.

"Well, maybe we're just not cool with you setting up your own little Patriot Act, man." Shannon rolled her eyes.

"He's a liberal," she explained.

"No, seriously, why the list?" Boone prodded.

"Ah, nothing, we just had a little incident in the valley last night." Hurley dismissed.

"Incident?" She repeated, remembering the screams she had heard the night before.

"Yeah, Claire, the pregnant girl, you know her, she, uh, kind of got attacked." Hurley tightened his grip around his pencil nervously.

"What?" Her mind filled with images of violent rapes and shootings and blood.

"She okay?"

"Yeah, she's a little shook up, but – "

"I am _so_ not moving to the rape caves with you." Shannon dropped her bag on the sand with a huff.

"You know, your life would be so much easier if you just had the manifest. We crossed out all the names of the dead after we burned the fuselage, so it should be a full roster of the rest of us." Boone said, ignoring her drama.

"What? Really? Who has it?" Hurley asked interestedly.

"Who do you think?" Boone frowned.

"Sawyer?" Hurley asked.

"Yep."

"Okay, thanks you guys!" Hurley waddled off. Shannon bit her lip.

"I am _not_ moving to the rape caves!" She repeated.

"Fine." He lowered his voice. "But we probably shouldn't be sneaking off far away anymore. I mean, if there's something dangerous out there…" Shannon nodded. "Maybe we should stop…"

"No!" She said firmly. "We'll just be really quiet."

Turns out that was a little harder than they thought. In Sydney, however putrid the situation may have been, he had smelled like spicy Calvin Klein cologne and Head and Shoulders. They had fallen onto a feather bed with 500-thread count sheets, and she had allowed her immense moans to resonate throughout the room, afraid of what silence might bring.

Tonight, he smelled like salt, not the kind from the dinner table, but the fresh, windswept salt that stuck to the windows of yachts at Newport Harbor before they were scrubbed away by a manic crew of workers. The Calvin Klein cologne was still apparent, but each day it lessened more and more and now was simply a hint of a whiff that was greatly overpowered by the sweat and salt that coated his body. Here, they fell into sand, and had to contain their moans, swallowing them up, fearing the consequences that a tiny peep might bring.

When he lay down next to her that night, it wasn't long until she felt his hand press into her thigh and creep slowly under layers of clothing, concentrating on caressing her breasts, his fingers rolling into the curves of her chest. She shivered, because moaning wasn't allowed, and let him gently roll on top of her, kissing her softly but noiselessly. Whenever she felt a sigh of recognition building in her throat, she responded by gulping. Time was another important aspect, so their shirts stayed on and only their underwear was removed. She could tell that he was refraining from making noise when she slid down his boxers, letting her hands linger as much as she wanted, which was a lot. With each thrust of his hips against hers, her gasps ascended, and the only way that she could prevent them was by biting her lips, gnashing her teeth against each other, digging deep, bloody scratches into his sides. They were used to her tears by now, that came so freely they dribbled into the sand, leaving tiny teardrops on the shore. She exhaled through her nose, trying to ignore the fact that he was having much less trouble that she was.

In Sydney, she had begged for him, screamed for him, and in the end, cried for him, and her screams of "Boone" and "Mmmmm!" had echoed, absorbing into the thick white walls of the hotel. But here that wasn't allowed. She couldn't even imagine what would happen if they were heard – nor did she want to. But they had their own rhythm on the island, and they were insatiable.

He was just pulling back when she heard it again. "Boone!" She whispered harshly, pushing him off of her. "Listen!"

He looked confused, but then an expression of recognition appeared on his face. "You think that's what we heard last night? Claire?"

Shannon nodded slowly, her half naked body shivering against the sand, even though she was covered by a blanket. "I'm scared," she mouthed. He handed her her skirt, agreeing.

"What are we going to do, Boone?" She asked, completely petrified, slipping it on under the blanket. "What's going on?"

"Shhhh," he rubbed her arm. "I'm sure it's okay."

"To hell you are! I want to know what the hell that is!"

"It's Claire," they heard a voice say. Shannon gulped, not recognizing the voice. But when she looked up, it was just Kate, holding a flashlight. She didn't look suspicious, or scared, which calmed Shannon slightly. "Jack said she's been having a lot of really violent nightmares."

"So no one's getting attacked?" She asked.

"I don't think so." Kate told them. "You should probably go back to sleep." She nodded meekly.

"Goodnight," Boone called after her. "Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm going to check on them." Boone hoisted himself up.

"Boone, please don't go!" Shannon yelled after him. "You're not going to leave me here _alone_, are you?"

He looked at her. "No. No, I'm not. Sorry." She smiled slightly as he sat back down.

"Bye," Kate called back.

They continued where they had left off.

* * *

_(Note: New content begins here. Sorry for the confusion.)_

Claire was kidnapped the next day. It turned out that Ethan, a man she hadn't known, had pretended to be on the plane, but actually wasn't and had kidnapped Claire and Charlie too. The mere thought sent shivers down Shannon's back, her throat filled with a hollow void when Boone had informed her what was going on. "What are you talking about?" She asked him, her voice shaking, as they arrived at the caves to get water.

"They were walking, and apparently that Ethan guy was with them, and then he took them. That's what Kate told me."

"Is that why she was screaming? Is it?" She asked. But Boone ignored her, looking up at Kate and Locke who were standing nearby. He started walking towards them. "What are you doing? We need to get our water and get to the beach. – "

"I hear you're forming a search party. Can I help?" He asked them. Right. So two people had just been abducted, and he wanted to go trekking into the fucking jungle of mysteries and leave her all alone?

"This is a deserted island. There's no choppers, no Amber Alert. How exactly are you going to find them?" She asked, rolling her eyes to disguise her fear.

"By following Ethan's trail. No one can walk through the wilderness without leaving signs, bending blades of grass, breaking twigs, especially with captives in tow. And yes, I could use another hand if you're up for it." Locke told Boone, completely ignoring Shannon's presence.

"I'm up for it," Boone said, giving Shannon a look, as if he were proving something to her.

Locke handed Boone a rather frightening looking knife. "Then let's get moving." Shannon stood behind them helplessly, hoping for dear life that he would still be alive the next time she saw him.

For the entire duration of the next few days, Shannon was so nervous that she couldn't eat, and spent most of the time shakily filing her nails. Plus, she had no one to talk to now that Claire had been taken, and she wondered if Claire was even alive any more, or had she been brutally killed or stabbed to death? If so, that would mean her child would be dead as well. Thinking about such uncomfortable things, about how there were other people, _murderers_ on this island, made her feel nauseous, and now Boone wasn't there to distract her from the awful truth of this place. Would he be home at four? She asked Michael what time it was and calculated the seconds until his arrival in her head, painstakingly carrying the numbers in her mind. When four rolled around, she guessed he'd be home at six, or at least by dinner, but when the remains of last night's boar were divvied up, Boone was still absent, even though Jack and Kate and Charlie were back. They had arrived at dusk, their clothes muddy, looking tattered and shaken. A horrible jolt had rushed through her stomach when she didn't see Boone walking behind them, even though Kate told her that they had split up and Boone was with Locke. She stared down at the disgusting red meat, and felt a strong desire to throw up. She looked over her shoulder, praying that there weren't any psycho rapists or murderers looming in the shadows. There weren't, but the newly found Charlie was sitting by the fire, breathing quietly, completely broken like his soul had been sucked out. She shivered – what if the same thing had happened to Boone? The next day wasn't any better – she managed a sip of water here and there, but eating was rather foreign… breathing was difficult enough. She wondered often if he had been killed, if Ethan had taken him, too, no matter how hard she tried to banish the thought from her head.

"They aren't back yet," she approached Kate after dinner the first night, who was kneeling on the ground getting some water. She looked around nervously again, making sure no one was hiding behind her.

"I'm sure they just made camp for the night." Kate tried to reassure her, but Shannon couldn't imagine sleeping without him. And he knew that! If he was alright, he would have come back! "If there's anyone on this island that your brother's safe with, it's Locke." Shannon nodded jerkily, trying to believe Kate's words.

"Kate," she said. "What's going on?" She tried to dismiss the tears threatening to fall down her face.

"We thought Charlie was dead." Kate gulped. "We found him, and he was… tied to a tree and blindfolded. He wasn't breathing, and Jack tried to give him the Heimlich… he wasn't waking up, Shannon, and I told him to stop… but then he woke up. And he hasn't said anything except just now… all they wanted was Claire."

"They?" She repeated.

"I don't know who "they" is… I guess it would be Ethan's people." Shannon couldn't imagine how Kate was being so calm right now, and she knew that the only thing that could make her feel any better would be to be in Boone's arms again – the mere thought of his embrace made her feel slightly better… if he ever came back.

"Oh my god…" she sighed, and sat on a log next to the fire, checking once again to see if there was anyone hiding behind her, ready to pounce.

The fourth night, she was waiting alone for him like she had every night, and she tried to divert her mind from dangers, leading it towards thoughts of happier things – pedicures and facials and hugs from Boone, kisses from Boone, and, oh god, sex with Boone, and it worked for a while. That is, until she heard a rustle in the trees behind her, in the dead of night. She breathed quickly, until she noticed who it was coming through the trees. It was Locke, finally wet and exhausted. He looked at her, curious as to why she was still awake. "No luck," he said, smiling, which didn't exactly prove his point, she thought. She looked behind his body, checking for Boone's presence.

"Is he okay?" Shannon interrupted.

"Who?"

"Boone!" She responded, frustrated almost to tears.

"He was following just about a minute behind me."

"_Was_?" She whispered hoarsely.

"Don't worry, he's fine. I'm sure he didn't expect you to wait up, though." Locke gave her a questioning look and walked away. Shannon stepped tentatively towards the jungle.

"Boone?" She whispered. "Please… where are you?"

"Shannon?" She heard a familiar voice say. Oh god, she wanted him to say her name again. He advanced towards her, and she enveloped him in an enthusiastic hug. She continued to wrap her arms around his body for quite a while, but he wasn't exactly arguing, he had his arms around her just as tightly, and was breathing heavily into her neck.

"You're all wet," she said. She didn't feel like asking him where he had been, because now that she was safe, all she wanted to do was sleep. "Come on," she let go of her embrace. "Let's go to bed."

"I'm not arguing," he responded to her hand pulling him towards the beach. Then she dropped his hand as they approached the trail to the beach.

"You lead," she urged. He started walking, but Shannon, petrified with fear, lingered behind. He grabbed her hand again.

"Shan, what's wrong? Come on, it's okay." He pulled her towards him as he walked forwards.

"I was so scared, Boone. Don't leave like that again! What if he comes again?"

"Don't think about that right now, Shan, okay?"

She swallowed, feeling more vulnerable than ever. "Okay," she squeaked. They continued following the path, and when they reached the area where they kept their things, she started digging through his bag and got the sweater and pulled it over her head. "Can you tuck me in?" She asked. He smiled deprecatingly and lay a blue airplane blanket over her body.

"What, so now I'm you mother too?"

She closed her eyes, her drowsy state getting to her. "You're like my mother and my best friend and my boyfriend and my brother… all at the same time…" Even though her eyes were closed, she could sense the satisfaction he took out of hearing this. "Boone…" she whispered. "Come to bed, okay?" He lay down next to her, rubbing his hands over her back briefly. She cuddled into him. "Don't go away again like that, okay?" she muttered. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." He agreed.

"Mmmmm," she responded. "Boone, you know I love you." She murmured quietly. _Oh shit_, she thought, wishing she could take the words back. Now her biggest secret was on the floor, he _knew_ now.

"What?" His voice was suddenly alert. "What did you say?"

"I love you…" she breathed, her words barely audible.

"Oh my god…" he groaned. "God, me too. Shannon?" But Shannon was pretending to be asleep.

And the next day she pretended it hadn't happened.

_I know that was also short, but I was having some severe continuity issues that I need to deal with and going on would just confuse me more. I guess now there'll be 37-ish chapters. Please review. _


	32. A Change in Feelings

**Chapter 32 – A Change in Feelings**

Boone seemed to realize, sometime midmorning after his fiftieth smoldering glance had been ignored, that her little declaration didn't mean anything. It was just another scratch she had made on his dwindling self-esteem – wasn't the first, probably not the last.

If she had said she didn't know why she was ignoring him, she would be lying, because she most certainly did. It was because, she was torn. She was in love with him, she would admit, she was so over that dilly-dallying crap, and it wasn't that she didn't want to be with him, it was more just that she _couldn't_. And she knew that their feelings, the physical attraction, everything… would get overwhelming, they'd be smothered.

And to solve this problem she spent half an hour on her makeup and sat down by a piece of plane and read a travel magazine. "Good to know you're doing something productive with your time," she heard his voice say. She looked up. There was Boone, looking sweaty and hot (in more ways than one) and trying to act normal, holding a water bottle and pouring it over his shoulders, like he had been working hard. She wondered why he was already covered in dirt, he hadn't been anywhere yet today, had he? She made the decision to confront him – she had been so preoccupied in her fear that she somehow hadn't realized how suspicious his constant absence was.

"Where have you been?" She asked, squinting at him.

"What do you mean where have I been?" He dodged.

"You and Locke have been leaving before sunrise and coming back after dark for the last four days. What are you doing out there? Is he your new boyfriend?" She added the last bit in just to annoy him. He smirked at her.

"We're looking for Claire." Yeah, for four days? After the rain had washed away the trail?

"I thought there was no trail anymore, that no one even knew where to look," she pointed out condescendingly.

"Yeah, well, at least I'm doing something. Don't you see the way they look at us around here. They don't take us seriously. We're a joke. I'm trying to contribute something. You're just. . . you're useless." Oh no, not the U-word. Useless? She thought for a moment, chagrined.

"Useless?" She repeated slowly. "Like, a leaf or something? Totally pointless, you could just… I don't know, step on me and it wouldn't matter?"

"I don't know, maybe you'd grow three more heads." He smiled at his own joke.

"Oh, fuck you and your Greek Mythology jokes. You're not funny. You're not cool, so why don't you just shut up? I'm not useless, okay?"

"Are you just going to pretend what you said last night didn't happen?" Luckily, Shannon was spared, because Locke was summoning Boone. She anticipated his "try to patch things up" speech he was about to make hastily before he left. "I'm sorry. I just wish you would do something."

"Stay out there as long as you want." She started out nicely. "See if I fucking care if you ever come back." He looked at her.

"I can't say anything, can I? Without being afraid of what you're going to say to me next?"

"Boone!" She heard Locke call. She looked over at him.

"Don't you dare tell your new best friend about us, Boone." She said darkly as he left.

The rest of the day passed similarly. At about eleven in the morning, Sayid (he had finally come back to camp like a madman shouting, "There are others!" As if Claire's disappearance hadn't proven that) approached Shannon and asked her to help him translate some random thing on some random maps that he randomly explained to her. When he asked her, she was convinced that Boone, that stupid fucker, had insisted that somebody tell her to do something useful, but Sayid said that he had actually done this on his own accord. And when Shannon thought about it, she realized that it made sense, because Boone would never actually suggest that she spend time with another man.

Since Shannon's French frankly sucked, she had a lot of trouble with the translations on the map, from the French woman they had heard on the radio weeks before. When Sayid went into the jungle on his guilt trip, he had run into her, and stolen her maps… and now Shannon was meant to translate them, apparently. Not only was it embarrassing that she kept messing up, she also kept noticing that Sayid kept sneaking glances at her. Eyes off, pervert, she thought, noticing with disgust his grossly long fingernails. After a while, Sayid made some assy remark, like it was her fault what that crazy woman had written didn't make sense, and Shannon had stalked off, crying.

Then she sat for a while, thinking about Boone and how much she would rather be with him. But he was off in the jungle, as usual, with his buddy Locke. What were they doing? She doubted now that they were looking for Claire, and unless they were like, lovers or something (yeah, Boone was entitled to getting some, operative word being _some_), they must have found something, she decided. She would ask him that night. She crossed her arms, looking out to sea. She wished that she could see beyond it, where the next area of land was – then it wouldn't seem so far from civilization… beyond… the sea… a light bulb went off in Shannon's head! That was it! The thing that she had been translating had been the song, "Beyond the Sea"! Stupid Pierre had always watched that movie, and at the end, they played that song in French! She stood up, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders, and went towards the fires in the darkness. She sat down next to Sayid and told him what she had discovered. She sang the song just for the hell of it as well. She would have sang just one verse, but then she glanced towards a tree, and noticed with surprise that Boone was standing there, looking completely furious, so she sang the whole song just to torture him. But by the end of the song, she had forgotten Sayid's presence and was staring straight at Boone.

"That's a nice song," Sayid told her, and Shannon zoned back into reality.

"Have you heard it before?"

"Never." He cleared his throat. "But thank you, Shannon, that makes more sense now. I am sorry that I got frustrated. Maybe we can be friends now." Shannon resisted the urge to crack up. Or spit on the ground. Friends? Yeah, right…

"Sure," she composed herself. "_Friends_." She hoped he wouldn't interpret that the wrong way. He smiled, looking like he very well might have interpreted that the wrong way.

Maybe if Boone kept leaving and she got desperate enough, they could be "friends" just to pass the time. "I got to go," she said, "See you!" Sayid smiled his creepy, leering smile again. Shannon walked over to Boone, still rather amused by the "we can be friends" sermon. Honestly, she was incredibly happy to see him, she hoped he would stay the night. But she seriously suspected that he might be in a rather pissy mood.

"Hey, you!" She exclaimed, giving him a hug. He returned the hug, the furious expression he had held moments ago forgotten. She hoped Sayid wasn't watching when he deepened the hug, wrapping his arms around her waist and running his hands down her back briefly. "Why do you keep leaving every day?" She dropped the question in casually, still hugging him. Maybe if he was distracted, he'd tell her.

"We're hunting for boar, actually – "

"Boone!" Locke came up to them, and since Shannon didn't give a fuck what Locke thought of her, still clung onto Boone. Maybe that would show him that she didn't want him to leave anymore.

"Yeah?" He asked, trying to ignore the arms she still had draped around his torso.

"When do you want to get going?" He gave Shannon a flash of a smile. Shannon finally dropped her arms and stood next to him, still quite close. She wanted Locke to know who Boone _really _belonged to.

"Um, I don't know, like – "

"I thought you said that you were going to stay here tomorrow!" Shannon said, even though he hadn't.

"I never said that. Did I say that?"

"Yeah." Shannon answered unconvincingly.

"I didn't say that," he dismissed tiredly.

"I was thinking around nine, since we got such an early start yesterday." Locke decided.

"Why do you make him leave at like, five in morning?" Shannon asked, annoyed. "I mean, he's not your slave."

"Shannon," Boone said, but she ignored him.

"No, it's fine." Locke told Boone. "Continue what you were saying."

"I was finished," she spat, stepping closer to Boone.

"See you at nine. You know where to meet, correct?"

"Yeah, I'll see you." Boone nodded, and Locke walked away. Boone was going to open his mouth to argue, but Shannon was faster, wrapping her arms around his shoulders again and holding him close.

"I did something today," she looked up and him. They were usually about the same height, but Shannon was slumped in his embrace, so she looked smaller.

He smiled down at her, unable to resist her cuteness, and responded, "What?"

"I translated this thing for Sayid, it's like this map from that French lady, but it's weird cuz it's actually just that song from Finding Nemo. That they played at the end, 'Beyond the Sea', you know?"

"That's weird."

"Yeah. It is. But you know what's weirder? That you've been disappearing all the time. Where have you been going? I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

"Answer my question."

"I've told you, we're hunting for boar," he pulled back. "Why don't you believe me?"

"You never bring anything back. Why are you hiding things? I don't hide anything from you."

He snorted. "Yeah, right."

But Shannon didn't want to argue right now. "You look exhausted," she pulled him towards her again, taking his hand. "Come on, let's go to sleep." He looked down at his hand, weighing the options.

"Okay," he said finally, and when they arrived, the inevitable happened, and as they kissed tenderly, he lay her into the sand, quietly undressing her.

"I love you," she whispered. She had gotten really bad the last few days about being the stronger one who didn't wear her fucking heart on her sleeve, but lately, it was like she was the desperate, clingy one – maybe she was getting weaker, or maybe she was just falling more in love with him. He held her hands, kissing her neck, but not returning the words.

When they were done and she was almost asleep, she heard him mutter, "Do you?" Neither Shannon or the dark night sky responded.

* * *

The next morning before he left and after Sayid had given her a pair of shoes he had found in the wreckage, Boone pulled Shannon behind a tree and kissed her deeply as his goodbye. She kissed back, pulling him closer to her when he tried to leave, but he just gave her a reluctant look and went off into the jungle. That night, he didn't come back at all, and when he got back midmorning the next day, Shannon could have sworn he was avoiding her. What had she done? Was he mad at her? 

"Boone," she tapped him on the shoulder when he was refilling his water bottle. He almost jumped, and then turned around. Well, so much for the hello-kiss she had been expecting.

"Wh-what?" he asked.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"I need to go," he said, and followed Locke somewhere. Frustrated, Shannon threw a rock at him, but missed.

"Fuck you!" She yelled. Why couldn't they just _be_?

"Shannon," Sayid walked up to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. She stepped away.

"What?" She composed herself.

"Are you alright?" He looked rather amused at her rock-throwing antics.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She huffed. "What's going on?"

"I'm going to go talk with Jack about the maps. As our resident translator," he smiled at his own joke. Shannon yawned. "I thought you could come."

"Sure," she answered sarcastically, but he didn't recognize her sarcasm. "Let's go."

Jack and Sayid were talking about the map and the French Woman, Shannon completely lost, when Michael walked up and proclaimed passionately, "What are we talking about doing now? Looking for another excuse to get chased down and killed by whatever lives in the jungle? Guys, we can't keep doing this. Building water filtration systems? Playing golf? Making a sweet little home here? We need to get off this island!"

"You think any of us want to be here?" She asked.

" No. But I don't think anyone wants to get off as much as I do right now." Michael responded, which Shannon thought was a little self-centered. I mean, why was his getting off so much more important?

"So, are you suggesting something?" Jack asked in a nasal voice.

"Yeah, we build a raft." Said Michael confidently.

"A raft?" Sayid repeated. Yeah, like a boat, dumbass.

"Look, don't say it like that, man. We need a little optimism here, okay? And we've got to do something because let's be honest, no one's coming. Those seats we took off the fuselage, they float. We've got an axe, and a whole bunch of trees, bamboo. We can do this." Jack and Sayid began arguing with Michael about how unrealistic it was, and after Michael stalked off, they decided that it actually would be a good idea. Just then, Shannon had a thought. Maybe if she helped out too, she could convince Boone to help as well, which would get him away from Locke! Now all she had to do was find him.

Luckily, she ran right into him as he was coming back with Locke. She fidgeted with the skirt that she had put on just for the occasion. Most of her skirts were short, but this one was like, especially so, so maybe it would help convince him.

" Boone. Hi. So are you guys just going to keep coming back without any food?"

He didn't answer, looking very distracted. Or distant. Or something. "Hey, I'm serious."

"Uh-huh." He stared above her head. Why wasn't he looking at her?

"What's going on with you, Boone? Could you be acting any weirder?" She asked, stepping closer to him to really confront him.

"Shannon, you've been a functioning bulimic since junior high. I thought you'd be excited about dropping a size or two." She ignored him.

"Well, since you're not having any luck with hunting maybe you should help Michael. He's building a raft." She paused, but the expression on his face hadn't changed. "I was thinking I would help him out, maybe finally get the hell out of here. Why don't you help me?" She added a playful, seductive tone to the last part.

"No," he said forcefully. She squinted, taken aback. "Thanks." She tried not to let him through, but he scaled around her, walking away.

What the hell? He never refused when she asked him things! Just two days ago he had been thrilled when he found out that she was doing something productive! She tried to fight back tears as she sat down on a log. But it wasn't long until she started crying, the tears obscuring her vision. There was nothing like being shot down by the man you were in love with.

_Yeah, yeah, I know, I should be studying for finals… but I will once I submit this! Okay, so Shannon and Boone are sort of switching a little bit in the next few chapters. And I officially got through the first bit of Shayid. Without puking. Unfortunately, the worse is still to come. Please review!_


	33. A Scare

**A/N:12/18- I edited the dates on this to go with the timeline on the show.**

**Chapter 33 – A Scare**

Shannon sat on the log for a while, trying to compose herself, when Kate sat down next to her. "You okay?"

"Yup," Shannon put on a faux bright face, hoping her eyes weren't noticeably bloodshot.

"Okay," Kate looked pensively into the distance. Shannon wanted to slap her for always being so damn pensive. But instead, she changed the subject.

"So what's up with you and Jack?" She asked, as if she was interested.

"Oh," Kate blushed. "Nothing…"

"You and Sawyer, then?"

"Sawyer's disgusting. Actually, I came here to ask you something," Kate said, changing her unconvinced tone.

"Oh really? What?" She hoped it didn't have to do with Boone.

"Well… this is actually a bit funny… someone stole my," she lowered her voice, "Someone stole my tampons, and I was just wondering if I could borrow a couple from you. It's that time of the month and all…"

"Someone stole your tampons?" Shannon asked.

"Yeah, wasn't you, was it?" Kate asked jokingly, but Shannon knew that Kate really suspected her. God, Kate was so mistrusting. Why would she want to steal her tampons? It's not like she had needed…

"No, I didn't take them. I have a few, though, at the beach, I'll go…" Oh shit…she thought...

"Great!"

"What's today's date?" Shannon asked abruptly.

"It's November 10." Kate sighed. "We've been here for such a long time."

"Oh shit." Shannon gulped. "I gotta go."

"What's the matter? Wait, you didn't – Shannon!" Shannon ran to the beach as fast as she could, haphazardly throwing things out of her bag when she got there. Finally, she reached Boone's day planner. She flipped through the pages. Her last period had been somewhere around the end of September… she flipped through the calendar… September 30th, October 5th, October 10th, October 20th… that was twenty days… October 31st, that was thirty-one days, November 10th, forty-two days. She threw the calendar on the sandy beach, crossing her arms over her chest, and this time she didn't even try to stop the tears from coming to her face.

"Shannon?" she heard a voice say. But it wasn't Kate. It was Sun, the Korean woman.

"Look," she stumbled, "I don't know what you want, but I am really _not_ in the mood to try to talk to someone who doesn't – "

"I speak English," Sun whispered.

"Wait, _what_?" Shannon momentarily forgot about the horrendous situation at hand. "Like, why didn't you say?"

"I don't want my husband to know."

"_Why_?"

"It's… complicated." Sun said. "I saw you coming here… the calendar, what's wrong?" Sun looked genuinely concerned, and before Shannon knew it, she was hugging her, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I think I might be pregnant," she cried, wiping her face with the side of her hand. "I'm like, over a week late, I just realized, and… I don't know what to _do!_"

"You don't want a… baby?"

"No, of course not! I'm only twenty, and I'm completely useless, everybody knows that!" She whimpered.

"Who is the father?" Shannon's chest racked with louder, more dramatic sobs. "You don't know?"

"No… no, it's worse!" Now her mascara was all over her face, and the remainder of her lip gloss had moved over her upper lip, and her face was blotchy and red. But for once, she wasn't all that concerned about how she looked. "Boone…" she muttered.

"Do you want me to get him for you?" Sun asked, her intentions completely innocent, but Shannon still snapped at her.

"No, you idiot, you don't get it!" Sun looked taken aback. "He's not really my brother, he's like… my dad married his bitch, evil mother when I was eight, and…" she lowered her voice, mumbling, "we've been fucking since I was seventeen! He's the fucking father!" Sun wrapped her arm tighter around Shannon, stunned and speechless.

"Boone is the father?" she asked, hoping she had misunderstood.

"He was in love with me." She explained, wiping her eyes and pulling back a little bit. "Until like yesterday, and he starts going off with fucking _Locke_ everyday and he doesn't…" the tears started falling again. "He doesn't love me anymore," she finished.

"Do… do you?" Sun regained the ability to speak.

"Yes," she blubbered. "More than you know." She breathed. "But I've been such a bitch… and even if I hadn't, he doesn't love me anymore, and these things never work out, I mean, we… don't you understand that we _can't be together_? And even if we could, you've seen where relationships go. I mean, _you're_ married and you and your husband are in the shit."

Sun did not speak for a long time, but when she did, she ignored what Shannon had said about her marriage and said calmly, "Well, you're only a few days late…"

"Twelve," Shannon bewailed.

"You may not be pregnant."

"It's not just that… it's him and it's me and it's this fucking island!" She yelled. "I want him back so much… you know, we were having sex the other night and I told him I loved him… I just broke! I mean, I'm supposed to be the strong one, I'm not supposed to fall for my idiot brother. I mean, he's my _brother_," Shannon stressed. "But I just want to – " Sun looked terrified at hearing all of these details. "I just want to – look." Shannon held out her hands, where there were tiny scrapes all over her palms. "That's from trying to keep my hands off of him in public. We just… can't resist each other, you know? Except I guess, now he can. And he's going to be so pissed off at me about this. _This_." she pointed to her stomach. "He's so responsible, and we forgot to use protection, and he's going to like… be so pissed." Shannon started crying again. Sun looked at the sky, looking very much like she just wanted to leave.

"It's fine, you can go," she told Sun. "I'll keep your secret if you keep mine?" She tried to smile, but it didn't work. Sun looked at Shannon sadly.

"It's a deal," she smiled forlornly. Shannon sniffled and cried into the night, curling up into a ball when she went to sleep, wrapping Boone's sweater around her shoulders and pretending it was him. Things were already bad enough, what with being in love with her brother… she was probably being punished, but a kid? How the hell was she supposed to have a fucking kid? It's not as if there were island abortions or anything. And what was she going to say to Boone?

* * *

"Boone," she said severely, catching up with him before he left the next morning. She had gotten up extremely early that morning in order to do so.

"Oh," he turned around. "Did you hear? We found Claire, she's alive, but she might have amnesia."

"Oh… look, Boone, I really need to talk to you." Shannon didn't have time to hear about Claire right now. She would think about it later, she decided.

"I'm kind of busy," he pointed to Locke, who was looking at them suspiciously and motioning for Boone to come with him.

"But Boone – "

"I need to go, okay?"

"No!" she screamed. A few people turned and looked at her. "I really need to _talk_ to you!" Sun walked by, biting her lip.

"Okay, whatever," Boone looked annoyed. "If it's so important, then what?"

"_Alone._" She looked over at Locke.

Boone lowered his voice. "Look, Shannon, if this is what I think it is, you can just forget about it, because –"

So he thought she was trying to seduce him? Oh my god, how shallow was she? "Is that what you think of me?" She hissed. "Is that really, _really_ what you think of me?"

"Well, it seems that way, doesn't it," he shrugged. "What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you alone," she felt tears begin to cloud her vision.

"Why can't John hear?" Locke looked over at them curiously.

"Quit being such an asshole, just let me talk to you!" She screeched. "I'm _serious_, Boone!"

"Okay," he looked taken aback. She pulled him over to a secluded corner of the caves. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked once they had arrived.

"I'm thirteen days late." She blurted out. "I might be pregnant," she inhaled, "with your child. Boone." She grabbed his arm, but he flinched away.

"Oh my god," he sat down, putting his head in his hands.

"I –"

"Be quiet, I need to think." He cut her off.

"This isn't my fault, I didn't do this on purpose, _okay_?" She continued. "It's from Sydney."

"How many days?"

"Thirteen," she repeated.

"That's not _that_ late… I mean, you might not be."

"And what if I was?"

"I don't know. But what I've been trying to tell you… show you, these last few days… is that, you see, John's taught me to, you know, be stronger… and I think that I need to stop giving in to you."

"John hasn't taught you to stronger, he's taught you how to be an asshole." She clenched her teeth.

"I gotta go," Boone told her suddenly, and he started to walk very quickly away. But he looked back. Which was a sign, Shannon convinced herself.

* * *

At some point that day, Shannon decided to get a hold on herself and stop crying like she had just discovered her entire family dead. No one had _died_, she thought, and she probably wasn't even pregnant anyway. She hadn't been throwing up or anything. Standing up, Shannon walked back down to the beach, and reapplied her makeup, putting on a swimsuit and basking in the sun, trying to appear as emotionless as possible.

Sun approached her, looking around before speaking in English. "I heard you and Boone yelling earlier."

"Yeah, well," Shannon responded. "My life sucks. Sun looked at Shannon, unfamiliar with American slang. "I figured I should take advantage of having a figure while I can." She laughed ruefully.

"Nine days isn't that many, Shannon."

"You know, it wouldn't be that horrible if I was, maybe Boone will realize that he loves me again. And then we'll get back, and I'll call good old Doctor Whatever, give him some money, and everything will go back to normal."

Sun sighed, probably thinking that Shannon was a hideous person. "Have you ever heard of something called being psychologically pregnant?"

"No." Shannon said. "Like, you think you're pregnant but you're not?"

"Yes. If you're in love with Boone," Shannon looked around, motioning for Sun to lower her voice. "If you're in love with Boone, you might be psychologically pregnant with his child."

"But I'm almost a month late!"

"Thirteen days, Shannon. There is a difference."

"Oh."

"Yes, that's what I mean. You don't want to be pregnant, yet you're convinced you are."

"But I might be."

"Maybe. What did Boone say?"

"He said…" Shannon sighed, trying not to cry. "He said he had to go. He's turned into such an asshole, you know?" She said earnestly. "It's all stupid John Locke's fault."

Sun didn't say anything, and neither did Shannon. Eventually, it got cold, so Shannon stood up and put on some clothes, walking towards the caves because she had nothing better to do. "Shannon!" Sayid called after her. She rolled her eyes, but then turned around and smiled at him.

"Yes?" She said calmly, said smile still pasted on her face.

"I was just wondering if you knew what this word meant," he held up one of the maps, pointing with one greasy fingernail to the French word _baiser_.

"It means kiss," she told him, wondering if this was some sort of intellectual foreplay.

"What about this one?" He pointed to_ volonté vous sortez avec moi_.

It meant 'will you go out with me', but instead she said, "It means, 'will you get my car a smog check,'" and turned on her heel, walking away. Sayid stared at the paper, looking disappointed.

When Shannon arrived at the caves, she went behind a bush to change her clothes, and came out, putting her swimsuit into her bag on a table. Suddenly, Claire, looking alienated, walking across the clearing to Shannon. Shannon took special notice in how large her stomach was, and how much trouble Claire was having just to walk. She hoped to god she wouldn't have to put up with that.

"Hi," Claire said. "Why is everyone staring at me?"

"I'm not staring at you," Shannon argued, not wanting to say the reason.

"What's your name?" Claire asked. Shannon had never been around someone who truly had amnesia. So on top of being pregnant, she didn't know Shannon's name? They had spoken so many times before, basically lived in the same place for weeks, and she didn't know her name?

"Shannon," she said in as normal a tone as she could muster.

"Shannon? You're staring," Claire said. Shannon could only think of a few reasons why they would be staring – um, she had been abducted by some guy they thought was one of them, her memory had been erased, and she was like, nine months pregnant, but besides that, there wasn't much of a reason.

"You mean nobody's told you?"

"Told me what?" Claire asked, completely clueless.

"Maybe we should sit down somewhere." Shannon started, sitting on a log. Claire followed suit, looking curious and maybe a little suspicious. "Do you remember Ethan?"

"No," Claire looked into the distance, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "He's the bad guy, right?"

"Yeah, but you see, we didn't know that. We thought he was part of the flight, the crash. You remember that, right?"

"Yes," Claire said defensively.

"Okay, well, you started having these nightmares a few nights before you got taken, and you said that someone was trying to… hurt your baby." Claire's eyes widened. "But Jack, you know, the doctor, he didn't believe you. But Charlie did, and then you guys disappeared."

"Oh," Claire said. "Is that all?"

"No," Shannon said, and Claire looked disappointed. "Jack and Kate, you know, the pretty brunette, went to look for you, and they found Charlie… and Ethan, who said that he was going to kill Jack. But then he got away when Jack was trying to hurt him. Locke, the bald guy, and Boone, my… Boone, they went looking for you as well. But then they said that the trails were gone because it had rained, and now they're doing something else."

"Is Boone the young, good looking one? Big blue eyes?"

"Gray," Shannon corrected. Claire cocked her head, not really caring. "But yeah, that's him. Locke said that they were looking for Vincent, but they found you instead."

"Who's Vincent?"

"Walt's dog."

Claire gave Shannon a look. "And who is Walt?"

"He's the kid. He's like, ten, and his father is Michael, who is tall and black."

"Oh," Claire looked dazed and confused. "So Ethan didn't hurt my baby?"

"I don't think so. I mean, didn't Jack give you like a check up?"

"Something like that." Claire said. "So… Ethan's just out in the open now? He could come and snatch me any day?"

"I really don't know," said Shannon honestly. "I'm not high on the list of people who they tell things to."

"Huh." Claire leaned back. "And I'm having a baby soon, obviously. I'm going to be so relieved when I get my period again," Claire smiled. "Funny, it's like 'the curse', your period, but I'm still going to be relieved."

"I know!" Shannon said earnestly. "Me too!"

Claire looked at Shannon. Shannon looked at Claire. Oh shit, she had really made quite the slip, hadn't she? "Why?" Claire asked. "Are you – "

"I don't want to talk about it," Shannon said, standing up suddenly and walking back down to the beach.

_Aw, poor Shannon. Actually, at the end of Homecoming, there was this tiny part where she was tending to a wound on Sayid's arm, but I just… couldn't do it. Hope nobody minds, keep reviewing! Also, tell me what you liked and didn't like, that is always very helpful and makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I've been updating a lot lately, but that's because I really am on the final stretch and I just want to finish, really. But after this I'm writing an 8-10 chapter thing about their high school years. It'll be a lot more low-key. And snaps/ jealousy to Faran1078, who is seeing Ian Somerhalder's play, and is thus going to see him half-naked! Soooooo jealous! _


	34. Getting Desperate

**Chapter 34 – Getting Desperate**

"I'm not here to comfort you," Shannon clarified to the brooding Charlie as she sat down on a log near him. "There's just nowhere else to sit."

Charlie didn't respond, he just looked up. Okay then. Suddenly, Shannon felt a weird churning in her stomach. For a moment, she thought that it was a clue that she was going to throw up, but when she stood up looking for somewhere to do so, she realized that the pain was a bit… lower. Her eyes widened. _Cramps!_ Moments later, her suspicions were confirmed, and after finding a tampon in a flurry, she wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

This was a good thing, right? She wasn't pregnant! Why wasn't she fucking jumping for joy? She sat on a rock somewhere, thinking. It might have been good, if Boone had come around, and they could be that family they always wanted to be. That _she_ always wanted them to be. She didn't even know what he had wanted, she hadn't had the sense to ask. Just then, Sun walked by and sat next to Shannon.

"How are you doing?" Sun asked her sympathetically. "I brought you this," she handed Shannon a few branches of Eucalyptus. "Because you've been stressed lately."

"Thanks," Shannon said. "I… I got my period," she whispered. "I thought it would be such a big relief, but… it's not."

"Because it would have been an excuse to be with him," Sun deducted.

Shannon nodded. "Yes. What should I fucking do?"

"Maybe you should tell him what you told me earlier. But wait a few days. He needs time to think."

"How am I supposed to wait a few _days_ to talk to him?"

"I think you have the power to." Sun nodded. "You're strong enough."

"I'm not," she responded. "And I don't want.. the news… to sink in for him if it's not true, you know?"

"That's a good point. But you should think about what you're going to say. Think… rationally."

"You're right," Shannon nodded. "I need to be mature about it."

But she wasn't. Five minutes later she was at Sawyer's tent. "Sawyer!" She whispered loudly.

He looked up with a start. "Aw, Sticks, you know never to wake a sleeping man!"

"It's urgent." She told him, sitting next to him. "I need to ask you a favor."

"What kind of favor?" Sawyer smiled lewdly.

"I need alcohol," Sawyer's face dropped significantly. "Please?"

"Well," Sawyer answered, "What's in it for me?"

"Whatever," Shannon said. She was _that_ desperate. "Except sex."

"Aw, shucks." Sawyer said. "You know, you can't just drown your sorrows in a mini-bottle. Wanna talk about it?"

"I was actually thinking more than one mini-bottle." She mumbled, looking down.

"This about Metro?"

"Quit pretending you know everything about me!" Shannon snapped.

"Oh, Sticks. You're pretty easy." Shannon glared. "To figure out, that is. I know more about you than you give me credit for. What do you think I sit around doin' all day?"

"Being an asshole, I might guess."

"Sticks, I love your snark. But I doubt its going to get you anywhere with Ghandi. But I don't think you mind, on account a'you rollin' those eyes whenever you see him coming. Now tell me what's goin' on with you andMetro."

"No, it's none of your business."

"Fine. No mini-bottles." But Shannon fucking needed those mini-bottles. She needed to get crazy drunk right now.

"How about I pull a Kate on you and kiss you?" Seriously, at this point, she was more interested in kissing Sawyer then talking to Sawyer about sex with other people.

"Nah, that'd be repetitive. How about a lap dance?"

Shannon smirked. "Yeah, _no_."

"Here's the choices, sweetheart. Either tell me what's going on with you brother lover, give me a lap dance, or no liquor for you."

"Fine, but you can't tell _anybody_. Promise."

"I promise. I've done mighty well with your other secrets, 'cept maybe that's because I got free porn out of it. That jungle blowjob? _Damn_, that was – "

"You were WATCHING that?" Shannon exploded.

"Naw, I was just pulling your leg. Lucky guess?"

"No, that never happened. I was just being paranoid." She claimed.

"Sure… so what were you saying 'fore you were rudely interrupted by yours truly?"

"Oh…" Shannon looked down. "Boone doesn't love me anymore."

"That translate to 'Boone won't fuck me anymore?'"

"_No_, it doesn't."

"So why's it matter if you're still getting some?"

"I'm _not _getting any."

"Then why'd you –" Sawyer looked confused, completely unaware of that little fine line between sex and love. What an idiot, she thought.

"He won't fuck me, he won't touch me, he won't _talk_ to me, nothing." Shannon crossed her arms.

"You think this is cuz of Smokey the Bear?"

"_Who_? Locke?" Shannon wrinkled her nose. "I know it's about Locke. Boone told me today when I told him I was pregnant."

"Wait, wait, wait. Rewind for a second? When you told him you were_ pregnant_?"

"Yeah, I thought I was. But I'm not."

"And he won't talk to you?"

"Nope. He's always avoiding me. I _miss_ him," she pouted, almost beginning to cry again.

"Aw, Sticks, don't cry. Here, you need these more than I do." He handed her two of his mini-bottles.

"More," she demanded. He gave her another. "More, Sawyer." He gave her three more.

"Don't do anythin' stupid, Sweet cheeks." But Shannon was already halfway down the beach.

* * *

If it had been a girl, she would have named her Haley, she decided after downing the first bottle. And when they got back, they would buy a big ass house with a gigantic swimming pool (with a cover, so it wouldn't be dangerous for the kid), and Haley's room could be creamy pinks.

After her second bottle, she thought more about what her life would have been like. Every Saturday morning, they'd wake up at ten, and he'd roll on top of her and they'd have morning sex, and then afterwards, he would carry her downstairs in a blanket and make her pancakes. With strawberries and powdered sugar, her now slightly drunk mind added.

If they were married, they would have a lot of barbeques. And they'd be the most attractive couple in town, and the object of all their gossip, always the center of attention. And maybe their step-sibling thing would stop being taboo, and would get hip. Step-sibling relationships could so be the new three-way, she thought.

As she drank, her thoughts became more vague and bizarre, and by the time she polished off the sixth mini-bottle, she could barely walk, and her judgment was completely non-existent, Sun's advice miles away by this point.

She staggered around the beach, looking for Boone. Finally, in a corner close to the outskirts of the jungle, she saw him, lying on his back half-asleep. Locke was somewhat nearby as well, but she could hear snores signifying that he was sound asleep. As she approached Boone, she noticed that he was only wearing a t-shirt and boxers. She slid next to him, pressing her breasts into his shoulder.

"Shannon?" He whispered. "What are you doing?"

She slid down so that her chin was even with his. "Boone."

"Go to bed," he mumbled, still not completely awake. "'Night."

"No…" Shannon scrambled her fingers to the bottom of his boxer shorts. "I love you…"

"Are you drunk?" He asked her, the whole situation feeling oddly familiar.

She dodged his question. "Remember when you came to France and I told you about my mom?"

"Shannon, it's the middle of the night. Can't we talk about this later?"

She started tearing up. "No, you won't talk to me." She felt the fabric of his boxers between her fingers. "You don't talk to me anymore. Why?"

"I told you, I'm sick of always being at your whim all the time. Like _now_," he grabbed her hand and tried to move it from his vicinity, but she was stronger, wrapping her hand around his thumb, pulling it away, and leaving it to rest at his hips, and subtly eased down the shorts.

"Boone," she murmured into his shoulder, moving down a little. "I need you, okay?" She kissed his neck, and then slid down so that her lips were equal with his collarbone. She kissed there as well. "I need you," she repeated, digging her fingers under his boxers to pull them down more. "I miss you," she whispered, tears coming into her eyes. "Cuz I love you, but you don't anymore," her voice started to get all squeaky and pathetic at this point. She scratched her fingernails down his sides, kneeling next to his hips. She kissed his elbow, mumbling that she loved him again.

"Shannon, please stop." He begged, but this was like the old days again, she thought. She could do whatever the hell she wanted, she thought as she pressed her hands between his thighs. "Shit," he muttered, "Stop."

"I miss you so much," she slurred, tears running freely down her face. She leaned over, moaning softly, and brought him into her mouth.

"You are so wasted," he commented in disbelief as she sucked. The thing was, she was so drunk she had no idea when to stop. She dug her fingers into his thighs, using her teeth a little too much.

"Mmm… please…" she whispered, begging him to let her stay. She pulled back to breathe, but a second later her lips were around him again.

"Shannon, you are so fucking drunk, okay? You are… get the _hell off of me_, you're making an idiot out of yourself." She pulled back.

"But I love you," she mumbled, sniffling. "I really do, why don't you believe me?" Boone pushed her off of him altogether, pulling up his shorts.

"Shannon, I just can't trust you anymore. I'm sorry."

"Tell me you love me," she whispered.

"Are you even listening to a word I say?"

"You don't love me anymore. It's true then. Well, I guess it doesn't matter, cuz I got my fucking period anyway." she bit her lip. Boone turned over.

"I think it might be best if you just left, Shannon."

"Wh-what?" She cried. "Boone, what the hell has happened to you? Are _you_ even listening? I'm saying I love you and you're not acknowledging it!"

"And to prove this you try to give me … whatever! If you wanted to have a relationship, maybe you should have tried to show me you had an ounce of sanity in that fucking _head_ of yours?"

"Fuck you," she blubbered. "_Fuck_ fucking you." She pushed off of his chest to stand up, and took a few tentative steps away from him. She weaved around the camp, pissed off, horny, and scared and drunk as hell. Eventually, she just collapsed on the sand somewhere.

* * *

"Shannon!" She heard a voice say the next morning. She opened her eyes, the light annoyingly bright around her.

"Wha…?"

"Shannon, it's dangerous for you to just fall asleep in any random place. If you had been taken, no one would have known where to find you." Sayid scolded her.

"Good." She started to stand up, but wobbled a little. Sayid grabbed her wrist (stupid pervert) to help her up.

"What do you mean _'good'_?"

"I was joking," she said, even though she hadn't been.

"Not a very funny joke, especially after what happened to – "

"I'm kind of not in the mood, okay?" She snapped. Sayid gave her a rather frightening look. "Sorry." She walked away, towards the caves, to get a piece of fruit to eat. There, she overhead Locke talking behind a bush.

"You were very brave, Boone." She heard him say. "It must be hard for you, pushing her away, but what you did was commendable. You need to show her she's not the boss, and you've been doing a good job."

"Yeah…" Shannon flinched hearing his voice, even though Boone sounded unconvinced. God, fucking Locke! Shannon sat down, alone, unpeeling a grapefruit. When Boone walked by, she sneered at him in the most vulgar expression she could muster, which he returned eagerly.When he left, she burst into tears, which was beginning tobecome annoyingly predictable.

_Damn, Shannon is a mess, isn't she? Oh dear lord, soon I have to do the Shayid kiss. I may die. Anyway, please review. Anyway, there was a sort of play on words thing in the Shannon/Boone scene, I wonder if anyone caught it, because that would make me all warm and fuzzy if they did.Also, because it's been so depressing and unhappy Shooney lately, I might have a really long, fluffy flashback, or do you think I should save that for a one-shot? I don't want it to be too non-sequitor, but it's sort of to help… dilute the Shayid. Haha. Please tell me what you like and don't like. Oh, and I'm sorry,** ShannonBoone4evr**, I know you wanted her to be pregnant._


	35. Moving On?

**Chapter 35 – Moving On? **

Shannon watched as Sun scampered out to the beach in a blue bikini. She seemed perfectly content, holding a towel absently in her hand, when suddenly, Jin came out of nowhere and started screaming at her in Korean. She had no idea what he was saying, but according to the expression on Sun's face, it wasn't anything especially nice.

Most men liked to see women in skimpy clothing (American men, anyway), so Shannon was rather confused why Jin would be so upset about her outfit. Apparently, so was Michael, who just _had_ to butt in and usual. He began yelling as well, but Shannon wasn't paying attention. She was recalling how Boone used to react when Shannon would walk outside to the lawn chair and lie on a towel in her skimpiest swimsuit, the one with the neckline that swooped across ample cleavage that she knew he liked best, and stretch out onto her back. When the temperature hit 90, or when Sabrina left the house, whichever came first, Boone would come outside and sit on the chair next to her with some lemonade for himself and Diet iced tea for her that she had requested, and then he would lean over, tickling the sides of her stomach absently. She would flip up her sunglasses, giggling uncontrollably (it _so _sucked to be the ticklish one), grabbing his wrists to stop him. But he was rather persistent, and one time, she ended up pushing him into the pool, and his body hitting the water made a satisfying splash. Since her arm was latched onto his wrist, she toppled in after him, and she shot out of the water moments later, gasping for air, as he followed suit.

"I hate you," she panted, pressing him into the concrete of the pool wall. Entwining her legs with his, she hoisted herself up against him, his clothes soaking wet, and started to heartily kiss him.

He smirked, not seeming to notice that his hundred and fifty dollar designer jeans (he probably didn't even know they were designer, his fucking mother still shopped for him) were drenched in chlorine, kissing her more, and switching their directions so that he was pushing her against the wall.

* * *

Shannon smiled at the memory, more of a wistful smile than one of amusement, and, as she saw someone walking by with a tarp, she decided that the one way to distract herself from thinking about Boone was to do something else – like build herself a shelter, finally.

She walked quickly towards the person, a rather ugly man who resembled some sort of pig. "Hi," she smiled. The man looked at her, frowning, giving her a strange look. "What?" Shannon kept the smile pasted on her face.

"You mean you haven't heard the rumors?" He asked her.

"What rumors?" Her smile began to wan.

"The rumors," he wrinkled his nose. "About you, and _him_." He nodded towards Boone, who was currently walking across the beach with Locke.

"That's crazy," she laughed, but her mind was circling with obscenities. "He's my brother."

"I'll tell Jessica, then, but she won't believe me."

Shannon decided not to ask who this Jessica was, her mind lingering on his profession of "rumors" and instead got to the point. "What do you want for that tarp?" The man shrugged. "You want some sunscreen? Or how about my dinner?"

"It's alright, you can just have it," he almost threw it in her face and dashed off, like he was afraid of her or something. She folded the tarp in her hands, frowning uncertainly. Then she realized that she needed some sort of platform to tie the tarp to. She wasn't really thinking about that, though – her mind was still wondering what those people had heard, and if they would spread the rumor to the rest of the people on the island, like Sayid, for example. But what was bothering most was that the rumors were true, she thought, as she let her mind wander again…

* * *

"Boone," she moaned, running her fingers through his wet hair.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"What kind of stupid question is that?" She had sneered.

"Well, sorry, I just – "

She covered his lips with her hand. "Just shut up and feel me up, okay?" But he couldn't answer because she had already started making out with him again.

"Can I just take this off?" He asked, regarding the minimal swimsuit top. She nodded a little too eagerly, accidentally bumping into his nose with her chin. "Damnit," he laughed. "Shit, that hurt."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Want a kiss to make it better?"

"Dear god, no." He joked in mock-horror.

"What do you want then?" She asked suggestively. Without further ado, he pulled her flush against him and started untying the halter straps of her swimsuit. She buried her head in his neck, licking and biting his ear.

"What the hell is it with you and my ear?" She heard him say.

"I don't know," she said breezily. "For some reason it just really turns me on." She nodded matter-of-factly. "Your ear, this one, actually – " she nibbled on his right ear, "is like, my favorite part of your body. Well, one of them, anyway." She kicked him in the crotch.

"Ow!" He pushed her away. "You're so violent!"

Shannon laughed. "That's what you get for tickling me."

* * *

Later that day, after successfully finding a platform to tie the tarp to, she was trying to figure out how to tie it. Brian had once tried to teach her to tie up a boat to the dock, but she was having trouble remembering. Just then, Sayid materialized behind her, breathing annoyingly in her ear. She laughed uncomfortably, stepping away from him.

"I tied this side down, do you think it's going to hold?" She asked him.

"Do you have a past in the Navy you neglected to tell me about?" Oh, ha ha, she thought, _very_ funny. She rolled her eyes, almost laughing at his stupidity, but as usual, he misinterpreted it.

"Why?"

"How does a woman like you learn how to tie a perfect bolen knot?" Okay, so what did he mean by "a woman like you", anyway? She smiled though, she could use the company now that Boone was… whatever.

"By dating guys with sailboats?" She thought of the unbelievably gigantic Brian.

"Since you bring it up, I've been worried since I first met you that you might end up an old spinster." Okay… what the fuck? She imagined she and Boone making fun of him later for saying that. Only, that obviously wasn't going to happen. So instead, she thought, if Boone had said that, what would have she said back?

"Spending my Saturday nights alone, tying knots?" She laughed uncomfortably again.

"Perhaps with an overweight Aunt? It's a very sad image." Again, what the bloody fuck was he talking about? She couldn't help it, she laughed at him. He closed his eyes part way, chuckling hilariously in an unflattering way. She wished she had a camera so that she could show the expression on his face to Boone later, and he would laugh about it with her. What would she say if this were Boone?

"Maybe we should get some rope, spend a Saturday night alone together, and see what happens." She looked back at Sayid, realizing in fear that it actually _was_ Sayid, not Boone, and now she had sort of asked him out and sort of suggested doing him as well. Fuck!

Sayid smiled in a perverted way. "I have a feeling we might not just be tying rope to rope." Ew, he liked S&M! Disgusting! Okay, so maybe he didn't mean it that way, but… now it was too late, as Shannon was cracking up uncontrollably. "Shannon?" He asked in a confused voice. "I'm going to go get some lunch. Do you want me to get you anything?"

"God, no." She blurted out, but then she smiled sweetly and said, "No, thank you."

The next day, Shannon was working on her shelter again, and Sayid walked by right as her tarp started to fly off of the platform again. But when she asked him for help, he refused, totally blowing her off, and that was when Shannon knew that Boone was responsible. Now, not only was she hopelessly in love with him, but she was pissed. How dare he be such a hypocrite, pushing her away from him like she was a disease, and then butting in when she tried to move on! So she did the only thing she knew how to do – she went looking for him, and of course as she walked towards the jungle, trying to find Boone or at least Locke, she thought more about that day when they had fallen into the pool.

* * *

She swam up to him again. "I think that's enough punishment for now. You wanna finish what you – " She gestured to her straying swimsuit straps. He untied them with ease, and she removed the top completely, pressing her bare breasts into his soaked t-shirt. "Aren't you feeling a little _hot_ wearing all those clothes?" She asked, unbuckling his belt and quickly unzipping the fly on his pants, dragging them down. Then she expertly dunked her head under the water and did what she wanted, pulling his boxers back up as she came up for air. She snickered at the expression of awe pasted on his face. They switched places again, so that she was against the wall, and kissed down her cleavage. She sighed in satisfaction, reaching up to match her lips and tongue with his again. She didn't know how long they had been making out when suddenly Boone pulled away.

"Shit," He suddenly said.

"What?" She giggled, her face nearing his again.

"No, seriously, put your swimsuit back on. You hear that?"

"Hear what?" She rolled her eyes. "Is it one of those birds you studied at that birdwatcher thing you and your stupid uncle – " He gave her a glare of death.

"My mother is getting out of her car, actually." Shannon heard the beep-beep noise of the BMW locking, and she quickly moved herself from the wall, tying her swimsuit on and returning to her position in front of him.

"Shit!" She exclaimed, a little louder than what was necessary. What could she say, she rather enjoyed pissing off Sabrina. But Boone wasn't amused as he wrestled Shannon away from him, and tried to put his pants back on, and saw Sabrina's shadow appearing next to the fence.

"What's going on?" She heard her stepmother's tinny voice from outside the gate.

"Boone pushed me into the fucking pool," Shannon swore as Sabrina approached. Sabrina looked at Shannon and Boone judgmentally.

"Shannon, don't use that kind of lang – what do you mean, Boone pushed you into the pool?"

"Well, I was just sitting here, minding my own business," she started in an innocent voice, "When all of the sudden, Boone comes up, and pushes me into the pool." Sabrina looked at Boone questionably. "And then, I pulled him in with me because he deserved it."

"Boone wouldn't just push you into the pool for no reason," Sabrina responded lightly. "Honestly Shannon, _grow_ up, you're embarrassing me – I've got clients here. And Boone, sweetheart," she smiled at Boone, who clearly thought he was off the hook. "You owe me a hundred and fifty dollars if those jeans get ruined." Just then, an earthy looking woman and a man with a large nose entered the yard behind Sabrina. Sabrina gave them her signature "don't you dare embarrass me" look, so of course Shannon was inclined to do just so.

"Hi," she said loudly to the people. "I'm Shannon, and this is my evil stepbrother, Boone. I presume you've already met the evil step_mother_." She smiled cheekily.

"Hey," the earthy woman smiled. "Are you the rebellious kid? _I_ was the rebellious kid."

Shannon grinned. "Yep, that would be me." She stepped out of the pool, wrapping herself in a towel, ignoring Sabrina's expression of disdain regarding Shannon's swimsuit, one that she would later proclaim "suited for a whore". She tiptoed across the burning patio and into the house, and then Boone totally felt her up in the shower.

* * *

When Shannon found Locke, he was sitting on a stump peacefully gutting rats. God, the guy was a freak! "Oh, gross," she blurted out.

"Gross to you, dinner to me." He calmly answered, like he didn't know what had happened a few nights ago.

"Boone, where is he?" She asked.

"Don't know." He said simply.

"What do you mean you don't know? You guys are like jungle pals."

"Sorry, I haven't seen him."

"Well, if you do see him, tell him to keep his stupid mouth shut. And if he does have something to say, he can leave Sayid out of it, and come say it to my face." This wasn't actually at all what she meant, she _really _wanted him to come say something to her face.

"Should I be writing this down?" He quipped.

"Just tell him to stay out of my business." _Or in my business_, she thought, _just not both_.

"Do you like him?"

"_What_?" She asked in fear.

"Sayid?" Shannon breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you serious?" Fuck, no, she didn't _like_ Sayid.

"Because if you do, like him, what's it got to do with your brother? You're a grown woman. Sure, you can yell at Boone 'til you're blue in the face, but all you're doing is giving him what he wants." What did that mean? Wasn't Boone like, over her?

"Yeah, what's that?" She asked.

"Your attention. Everyone gets a new life on this island. Maybe it's time to start yours." Or maybe it was time to make Boone really fucking jealous, she thought.

So, she recycled Locke's words, using them in explanation of kissing Sayid, even though she didn't even believe herself when she said them. Because when they kissed, she wasn't thinking about him. She was thinking about how Boone had pressed her into the tiles of the shower, crashing his lips into hers as if their lives depended on it.

_Damn, that sucked, didn't it? I know I'm cheap for desperately trying to convince myself that Shannon never liked Sayid, but you know, I had to… dilute it. But I'm glad I'm done with that part. Except now I have to live through the whole making out thing in Do No Harm. And I have to write Do No Harm! Noooooo! Do you think that the smutty flashbacks are stupid, or good? Please review, thanks!_


	36. Last Goodbye

**Chapter 36 - Last Goodbye **

It really was_ so tacky_ to hook up on an island, Shannon thought as she walked past a group of people who sat in a circle, whispering. They were all suddenly quiet when she approached them, you know, that kind of silence where someone has just been talking about you. But Shannon realized, looking down at her flippy cotton skirt in kiwi green and her tank top with all these random loops and pieces of metal on it, that tacky was just what Shannon Rutherford was. But it was nice to feel wanted by someone. Even if all that someone wanted was to get into her pants. But she may as well lower her standards for guys, because no wonder Boone didn't love her anymore. It was a wonder that he had _ever_ loved her – she was just so uninteresting.

But there were lots of reasons why she still loved him. Besides his looks, of course, there was also the fact that he would do _anything_ for her (okay, maybe not now, but he would come around), he was rich, funny, sweet… but every adjective she used wasn't good enough. It was too cheap and clichéd, and simply didn't extend the twisted attraction she felt towards him. But it didn't mater, she was with _Sayid_ now (God, she didn't want to be), and Boone knew that. Her thoughts dripped in contempt as Locke's words swam through her head again… _everyone gets a new life on this island_… oh, says who? It seemed to her that everyone's life was just the same as it fucking had been before the island – nothing could be erased. And hooking up with some old, hairy guy twice her age wasn't exactly part of the new life she wanted.

Would Boone come around? She wondered this whenever she put on a happy face to go be all cutesy with Sayid. When he touched her, she tried to ignore the long fingernails, closing her eyes, thinking _Boone, Boone, Boone_… it didn't seem to work very well. It was interesting, though, because she felt dirty and gross after Sayid like, touched her, and she didn't feel dirty at all after fucking her sort-of brother in the middle of the jungle all night. With the latter option, she felt like she wanted _more_. Shannon smiled in spite of herself, sitting down near the water, vying rather to sit and think alone (Sayid had gone into the jungle to talk to the crazy French woman, and Shannon had pretended to care) than to attempt to make conversation with anyone.

Just then, someone sat down next to her. Possibly Sun of Claire, maybe Sawyer… Shannon didn't particularly care. She looked to her left, and noticed that the person sitting to her left was Boone! He didn't say anything, but she didn't try to disguise her excitement. Careful not to make an idiot of herself again, cringing as she remembered the incident of a couple nights ago, she breathed, and calmly said, "Hey."

"Hi," he looked at the ocean, holding his knees up to his chest. Shannon looked down and realized that she was doing the same.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out. "For you know, a few – "

"Yeah – " He tried to cut her off.

"I was drunk, and –"

"Ok – "

"Yeah." They were silent. Oh, screw this! "You know, Boone, I really do wish we could be together."

"Then why'd you hook up the Arab guy?" He responded dubiously.

"I don't know," she smiled self-deprecatingly. "I don't know."

"You just going to use him like you use everyone else?"

"Can't we just have a conversation?"

"I guess." He glowered, and she noticed him looking at her legs, like he used to all the time. This was like step one, she figured.

"Do you remember that time when I ditched my winter formal for you in – "

"Shannon." He grabbed her hand, but then quickly let go. "Don't do this, okay?"

Shannon nodded. "Okay."

"Why does this have to be so weird?" He groaned. "I'm sorry."

"It isn't your fault, Boone. Takes two to tango," she noted. "I really fucked it up, though."

Neither of them said very much after that. They sat on the beach, she didn't know for how long, just sort of staring off into the distance. It reminded her of one of those annoyingly tranquil, uneventful days before thunderstorms – it was like they could both sense that something apocalyptic was about to happen.

"Hey Boone?" She said.

"Yeah?"

"I'm in love with you. Like, I have been since I was like, seventeen."

"What's with all this confessional stuff?" He asked, confused.

"I don't know." She responded. "I just feel like we should probably get it all out. You go next."

"No, I don't wanna play." He answered stubbornly. "I think you know most of it, anyway. But Shannon, I have a question for you. Why do you do this? All this on and off shit? I mean, I just don't know what to believe. I never know whether to believe you or not. Especially now that you're with Sayid for no reason."

"You wouldn't _speak_ to me," she blubbered. "I gave up on you, Boone."

"I should have given up on you years ago – "

"You tried, with Anna and stuff, didn't you? Maybe I'm doing the same thing! Maybe it's _not_ working!" Tears of frustration ran down her face, accompanied by irritated cries.

"Shannon," he said softly. "Shan… don't cry, okay?" He touched her back for a moment, and she prayed that he would keep it there. She scooted closer to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"I love you," she whispered again.

"I know."

"It's really nice to talk to you again, Boone." She smiled as he wiped a tear off of her face.

"Yeah, it is." She looked at the sky, which was beginning to morph into deep pinks and blues and yellows. "You wanna watch the sunset with me?"

"Yeah…" he started.

"But you can't, right? This sucks, doesn't it?" She laughed. "But I guess Sayid will be back soon. Where's Locke?"

"Locke is… I don't know, actually. But he said to meet him after dinner, so…" He backed away from her.

"I'll see you, Boone." She smiled.

"I Love you." He kissed her forehead. "I like saying that."

"I like hearing that," she laughed. "Bye." Shannon stood up to walk somewhere (she was too lovesick at the moment to think about where), and held her head up high when she walked past the gossiping group again.

But the thing was, she realized later, their conversation didn't really change anything. They still couldn't _do_ anything, but she supposed it was nice to know that they were getting along. So when Sayid came back, she played nice and let him kiss her, but as Boone walked by, she looked at him, rolling her eyes and smiling suggestively at him. There was something oddly liberating about being so blatantly rebellious, giving Boone bedroom eyes while she was Sayid. It was sort of like when Sabrina would be washing dishes or cooking, looking outside the window, and Shannon and Boone would start making out right behind her. When Sabrina turned around, they would just be standing there, looking completely innocent.

And the conversation that they had had would certainly apply later in life, after they got rescued from this bloody island. Maybe some of her fantasies _would _come true, eventually. This new thing they had, though, she didn't want to fuck it up. So she didn't try to find him that night, instead she lay by herself, trying to differentiate her fantasies with things that had actually happened. It was sometimes difficult, because as she reminisced, she realized that some of the times they had had together were pretty damn near perfect. Like the time when she had mentioned to him, when midway through the winter formal at school, she suddenly had this gigantic urge to go do him. So she left, which proved to be one of the best decisions she had ever made, resulting in the sexiest weekend ever experienced by mankind. Or at least, experienced by Shannon.

* * *

When she arrived at his apartment, she was wearing a low-cut dark blue dress and three inch spike heels. After she used the key he had given her, she sauntered into the front room, which was attached to a kitchenette, where he was eating a bowl of cereal in a navy colored bathrobe and boxers. He was facing the opposite direction as her, and as she entered, she slapped him on the ass to alert him of her presence, and sat on the counter behind him. He turned around and looked at her. She remembered that he had practically drooled at the sight of her, before placing his hands around her waist and kissing her fully, pressing his tongue into hers as she wrapped her hands around his neck. And that was before they even said hello.

"What's with the dress?" He mumbled in between kisses.

"I was at this stupid school dance thing," she moved her hands to the seam of his boxers. "You like?"

"I like it better when it's not on you."

"You suck at talking dirty," she told him, but then she deepened the kiss, proving him to believe otherwise.

Without breaking the kiss, he fumbled his hand around her back, trying to locate the zipper to her dress. When he did, he eased it about halfway down, but Shannon pulled back for a moment, moving her dress up. Then she leaned back into the kiss, tickling the inside of his lips with her tongue, pinching the band on his boxers, scratching at them rather futilely. This time he pulled back, taking off the boxers in one fluid movement, as she did the same to her underwear. He fucked her then, and after he put his boxers back on, with her dress still half-on (or half-off, he reminded her, depending on how you look at life), he picked her up, his hands under her thighs to support her, and carried her to his bed.

She rolled over, clawing at his stomach. "Again," she demanded, finally beginning to take off her heels. Boone looked at her in horror. "What?"

"Did you put your shoes on my bedspread?"

"Oops," she muttered, hoping he would let it go. "I'm sorry." She bit her lip.

"It's fine, just don't let it – " but he couldn't finish his sentence, because she had just crawled on top of him, straddling him and capturing his lips in hers again. But they were in a rather precarious position, she was sitting on his leg, and before they knew it, they had both toppled over, so that she was on her back and he was on top of her. In a flurry, she finally removed the dress completely, exposing a skimpy, strapless black bra and underwear, and he took of the bathrobe, which was actually completely pointless, she realized. "Shannon," he murmured in frustration when she lay back down, pulling her against him for a second so that he could move his arms to unhook the clasp of the bra..

He slid over her, guiding his hands along the curve of her waist. She shivered in anticipation, but when she felt him move inside of her, she moaned, arching her back and pushing into his hips to get as much of him as she possibly could. Finally, he pulled out, but she was left breathing heavily for a few moments, as the euphoria had not yet faded away.

Eventually, she rolled onto her side, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He was on his back, a blank expression pasted on his face as he stared at the ceiling. "You dope," she laughed. He looked at her to rebuff her, but then he ended up pressing his lips into hers again. She kissed back in spite of herself, rolling on top of him again.

Afterwards, they lay asleep, and she breathed quietly into his ear. When she woke up the next morning, he was already awake, not to mention dressed and showered. He handed her a piece of toast in bed, noticing the expression of dismay on her face. "Sorry it's not exactly gourmet," he apologized.

"Oh, no, no, no. I don't care about that," she dismissed, "I was just… you already took a shower."

"So?"

"I thought you were going to wait for me," she smiled disappointedly.

"Well," he sat down next to her, where she sat, her hair in a mussed up-do, half-naked, and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm not necessarily against taking two showers." He murmured in her ear.

"And after being such a dirty boy last night," she laughed, "You might need two showers to get clean, don't you think?" So he did her in the shower as well. God, they were such sex fiends.

* * *

"Shannon," she heard a voice say to her the next morning when she woke up bleary eyed. She blinked, her eyes focusing on Sayid, who was standing in front of her.

"Huh?" She asked. "What time is it?"

"It's ten." He told her, his expression conveying that he was disappointed in her for sleeping so late. "I want to show you something, get ready." As he left, Shannon groaned, pretending it was Boone who had something to show her.

_Okay, I know, I'm cheap, blah blah blah, I can't put a sex scene in every chapter, la la la, but I did, so too bad for you. Anyway, that was the second to the last chapter, so I had to put something happy in it, right? Please review, and say which parts you liked and didn't like, as usual. Thanks for all the reviews from last chapter! Ah, here comes Chapter 37, the chapter of doom. I think I'm going to cry. L_


	37. The End

**Chapter 37 – The End**

_I'm thinking of what you said, that love is watching someone die. So who's gonna watch _you_ die?_ - "What Sarah Said" – Death Cab For Cutie

That morning, Shannon had followed Sayid through the jungle, and as time went on, she wondered desperately if he had gotten her lost. He continued to insist that they were going the right way, to wherever the hell he wanted to take her, but then kept dropping in things like "I think" to the end of each sentence. Maybe he was trying to be funny and flirtatious, but it sure wasn't working.

"Where are we going?" She finally asked, fed up.

"This way," Sayid led her through some trees.

"Oh, okay. Are you lost?" She asked dubiously.

"No, absolutely not. Those trees look really familiar. It's this way - I think." There he went again. Shannon sighed. At least Ethan was gone now, but there was still the imminent threat of the monster in the jungle. Well good, she thought bitterly, maybe it could eat Sayid.

"Did you just say, _I think_?" Shannon repeated, sick of his "charming" antics. Sayid didn't answer immediately, but then pointed to a clearing towards the beach.

"Surprise," he exclaimed.

On the ground was a picnic blanket and food around a fire. She had to admit it was quite nice, but she didn't want it. Her face fell, but when he looked at her, she pasted a pretend smile on her face. Maybe it really was _supposed _to be this way, maybe she should be happy about it. With that outlook, she didn't argue when Sayid handed her a mango, and she didn't flinch (much) when he touched her, and she barely even gagged when he tried to kiss her. And if she kept her eyes closed, it seemed like it could be Boone. But when Sayid tried to put his hand under her shirt, Shannon pulled back. Even having her eyes closed didn't help, because Sayid's hands were rough and dirty, whereas Boone's hands were always soft and warm when he touched her.

"I need to tell you something," she blurted out, racking her mind for an excuse not to go further with Sayid. She decided that it wouldn't really hurt to use the Boone excuse, because it wasn't _technically_ lying – she just wasn't telling the whole truth. So she told Sayid that Boone was in love with her, but when he asked her if she was in love with him, she flat out lied. "No, not in that way." She had responded stoically. And when Sayid asked her if she wanted to go back, she said no, mainly because she wasn't especially fond of walking through the jungle in the dark. He took it the wrong way, and made some comment about how he had hopes to go further.

But none of that mattered after Jack approached her the next morning when they walked back to camp.

* * *

In movies, the weather was bad when something terrible happened. But the sky wasn't dark now, and there was no rain pelting into the sand like it should be. No, everything was blue, and the sun was bright, the wind sent a cool breeze across her face. It was like the weather was teasing her – no, that was too mild a word; the weather was mocking her, condescending and crass towards her plight.

Shannon walked down the sandy beach, her mind completely numb – but not oblivious, like she had been last night. But last night was a different time, a different life, something too distant to grasp now that everything was going to change. This wasn't reversible, and it certainly wasn't something that would pass with time. She was remotely aware of voices around her, saying words – worthless, useless words that meant nothing, they would change, they weren't permanent. Some things seemed like they couldn't change, but everything could be, _everything_, except this.

Death. Love. Two forces that didn't change, it was impossible. And they were connected – _love was watching someone die._ Where had she heard that before? She explored her mind, covered in a layer of smoke, distorting everything inside, and remembered, suddenly, accompanied by a startling jolt in her chest. Camilla.

* * *

The lamp next to her bed shone in the darkness, putting a spotlight on her mother when she walked into the room – with her white nightgown and long, loose hair… Shannon thought it made her look like an angel. What she would be less than a decade later. Her mother floated into Shannon's room, sitting down on her bedspread. It was late, two, maybe three in the morning, and Shannon's eyes opened slowly – she was accustomed to her mother waking her late at night, seeking solace from her young daughter. Often Camilla began to say goodbye, like she was planning something, but the next morning her mother was there, staring distantly out the window, holding her coffee mug between manicured fingers. "Shannon," her mother said softly, placing her porcelain hand over Shannon's.

"Mommy," she whispered back, understanding her mother's pain as well as her mind, barely five years old, could. Her mother's voice was laden with agony, hidden underneath a thin cloud of faux calmness. Camilla looked composed and peaceful, but inside that mind, under her flaxen hair and deep, syrupy eyes, there was war – complete and total violence, chaos even, that fought her will to live. "Are you and daddy okay?" There had been a fight that day between her parents – a silent fight just like always, beginning with a seething glance from her mother and concluding with her father taking a bottle of vodka to the bedroom. Camilla had covered her eyes in a glaze, staring at static on the television set. That was what fights were like for her parents – silence, horrendous, terrorizing silence, the kind that was worse than even the loudest, most high-pitched scream in your ear, and if Shannon strained hard enough, she could hear tinny voices in her head, the hush was so unbearable.

Camilla didn't answer immediately. "Yes," she sighed, her hair flickering in the light.

"Do you love Daddy?"

"I can't love." Her mother answered.

"Why?" Shannon wondered out loud, as her mother fidgeted with her hand, turning over her wrist so that Shannon caught a glimpse of jagged cuts on her arm. She didn't understand the cuts, didn't know where they had come from, but when Camilla caught Shannon staring, she flipped over her hand suddenly.

"Because," Her mother gazed into Shannon's identical amber eyes. "Love is watching someone die."

"What does that mean?" Shannon asked in confusion.

"It hurts."

"What hurts?"

"Love. It hurts to love. It hurts too much." Shannon wrinkled her nose, still confused. "If you can be there, if you can watch someone's last breath… if you can handle it, that's love."

"So – you couldn't do that? With Daddy?"

"No." The first hint of tears appeared in Camilla's eyes. "It hurts too much. Love is watching someone die." She repeated.

"But I love you, Mommy." Shannon tried to comfort her mother, grasping her hand.

"Would you watch me die?"

"I don't want you to die, Mommy."

"That's what David said… that's what David said," Camilla muttered under her breath, looking at the thick carpet beneath her bare feet, misinterpreting what Shannon had said. "Then nobody loves me. No one's going to watch me die, are they?" Shannon didn't answer, tears running down her face. She had never been so confused, so agonized, in her entire life. She watched as her mother pulled a tiny razor out of her pocket, and she cut cleanly across her wrist, and a tiny bit of blood emerged.

"What are you doing?" Shannon whispered, horrified. Camilla bit her lip, pulling the razor from her wrist. There wasn't much blood – just a few drops, but one of them dripped onto Shannon's pale pink bedspread. But her mother didn't notice, she simply kissed her daughter's forehead and left the room, apologizing. But the stain never went away, and years later, Boone might run his hands over her leg, and Shannon would move over, and the bloodstain on her bedspread– the big clue, would be exposed once again.

* * *

Maybe it meant she hadn't loved him enough. It had been love, but was it pure, bottomless love? If her mother was right, if being able to stay by someone, by _Boone_, when he was dying, watching his final breaths, was love, then she hadn't loved him. She had avoided it, distanced herself from him, and that had been cowardly. It was all her fault. It was her fault, telling her mother she didn't want her to die, and she had killed herself, and now, Boone, she had dismissed it as something that wouldn't happen, he was dead as well. And her father was dead as well. She hadn't been there when her father died either, she thought, as she knelt down in front of Boone's body. She touched his shoulder. It was cold. Not cold like snow or ice, but cold like empty. And it was permanent, there was no turning back.

If the kisses she had shared with Boone in Sydney had been the most intense, then the tears that escaped her eyes now were the most emotional. A few days ago, she had cried because Boone was gone, but now it seemed petty, she had no idea then. No idea that she could leave one day and return the next to find the last person she loved dead. Everything was petty, now – the fact that there were people watching her, that the dirt beneath her knees dug into her skin, that a new life had just begun as Boone's life ended, all that mattered now was the void in her heart that kept growing and growing. First her mother, and a giant nick had appeared where a piece of her heart had been, and after that, her father, another section chopped off, just like that, and now, Boone. Her brother, her lover, her _everything_. Now all that was left of her heart was a tiny, vulnerable sliver of dust – maybe she had let it become that way, maybe she could have prevented all of this if she had been a better person.

Yes, she must be cruel, she decided, because that was the only way she deserved this, for everyone in her life to suddenly stop. Maybe it was her cold callousness, her blatant self-centered desires, that had caused this. Or maybe, she thought with a shudder, she wasn't a part of it at all – maybe she wasn't even worth the thought when fate had chosen Camilla, David and Boone to die. Maybe she was petty as well, just like the dirt beneath her feet. But Boone wasn't petty. He deserved more than this.

Boone deserved a life, if anyone deserved a life, then _god_, it was Boone. Shannon had cried into his arms at the hotel in France, sobbing that she was afraid of becoming her mother, becoming a confused mess just like Camilla, and Boone had told her that she was stronger than that. But maybe it would have been better – maybe she _should_ have become Camilla, and maybe she should have died last night instead of him, because hell, he deserved life so much more than she did. What had he ever done wrong to deserve to die young? The list was empty, nonexistent, but hers was not. She should have died! But maybe this was worse, maybe everyone in her life dying was worse than her actually dying, she thought as she imagined what Boone's pain might be like if she died when he was alive. Maybe everyone else dying was her punishment. Because everyone that Shannon loved died.

Her mother's path was suddenly looking quite bright, in comparison to the dim life that was hers now. Maybe it wasn't too late, maybe she should take one of Locke's knives now and jab it into her heart – then they would be together, and then she would get what she ought to have. But she had a feeling that her life was almost over – after all, he was her life. It was true, almost everything she had done, everything she felt, was about Boone. Or maybe she just wanted her life to be over.

Shannon hated the way she sat here now, helpless. She hated the way his skin was cold and clammy, lifeless. And she hated the way that there was no happy ending for them, and now there never would be.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you so much for reading the story. Your reviews have really helped me write it, especially Faran1078, Stahlfan125, and Summerith, who reviewed every single chapter! Wow! So, that is the end of the story, so please tell me what you thought of it. I'm not sure if I did a good job on this chapter at all, but I really tried, so I hope I did. Thanks so much again for reading this!_


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